Breaking the Cycle
by Solas Nocturne
Summary: Waking up to the sound of an explosion is not how most people envision starting their day. Neither is waking up in an unfamiliar galaxy, but it's not like I had any say in the matter. Starts before events of Mass Effect and will span all three games. OC/self-insert
1. Chapter 1

Breaking the Cycle

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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The truth is you don't know what is going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed. -Marshall Mathers

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The first thing I'm aware is the very loud explosion that shakes the world around me like an earthquake. The hard ground beneath me that was definitely not my couch seems to tremble from the sound.

That woke me up. I was scrambling to my feet in an instant. A million things running through my mind at once. Like 'Where the hell was I?' and 'Why were people trying to blow me up?!'

I wait for my vision stop being fuzzy and groggy so that I'm able to discern my surroundings. Fortunately, I don't have to wait long. Unfortunately, I'm not in my apartment.

"HIT THE DECK!" I hear a hoarse voice shout. Well, that voice sounded too close for comfort! Doing my best to ignore the instinct telling me to run that's ringing like a warning bell in my head, I hit the ground face first and quickly cover my head with my hands.

The explosion that sounds afterwards can only be described as cataclysmic. The world around me was momentarily deafened as it shook. A plethora of small objects rain down on me and a few very sizable chunks impact against my back. Something large and painful hit my head and the world went dark.

_Idiot! wake up! You have to keep moving!_

Five more minutes._.._

_Fool, your ass is about to be fried chicken if you don't start moving! Up up up!_

That particularly colorful mental prod wakes me. When I open my eyes again, everything is muted and there's a persistent high-pitched whistle in my ears that won't go away. My head feels like a dead weight and there's a dull throb echoing in my right temple. I reach up to feel my forehead, flinching as my fingers came away bloody.

That definitely can't be good. My brain isn't really thinking right. It's like that time I got my wisdom teeth pulled out and after the surgery I was only vaguely aware of my friend leading me stumbling, back to our flat.

Only this was a lot less fun.

And much more painful.

Clenching my teeth in an effort to ignore the dull throbbing in my head, I pull myself into a kneeling position. Immediately, I'm thankful I didn't try to stand right away because a sense of vertigo sends me straight back onto my face. You know, this dirt isn't that unpleasant. Maybe I can just lay here a bit longer? Catch up on some sleep.

_Lazy ass, keep moving!_

Somehow I manage to stand without careening over. My eyes scan around trying to get a better feel for what the hell I'm doing, only it's like looking at things through a fish bowl.

All I can make out is that I'm standing in the middle of a dirt road with white box like buildings on either side of me. The sky tinged orange signifying the sun was setting.

Are those buildings on fire? Dammit, can't see a thing. Judging from the heat radiating off them, I'm going to assume that they are, in fact, on fire.

I don't even recognize them. They looked vaguely familiar, but I'm sure they weren't in my neighborhood. Come to think of it, I don't even remember a dirt road being anywhere near my apartment. What was I doing last? Sleeping, right? I had been lying in the couch. I closed my eyes...

And woke up here.

That's just dandy.

I turn to my side only to see the area between two buildings covered by twisted steel and caved in walls. Wait, had that been a building? What the hell...?

It's then that the smell hits me like a wall. The smell of burning metal and flesh.

Rubbing my eyes furiously for a final time, my vision clears for me to see that I'm not in any immediate danger. At least not yet. There's no one around me that is currently trying to kill me, so I'm going to assume I am not in any danger. But that also makes me wonder what the hell just almost blew me up? Was it that building? And more importantly; WHERE THE HELL WAS I?

I half stumble half walk through the remains of the completely obliterated building, and, consequently, towards the sound of gunfire. I would probably look back on this moment one day and wonder what the hell enthralled me to head towards the sound of bullets, but right now my brain was convinced that it was the best course of action.

Logic be damned.

I slowly creep through what might have been the kitchen area of the gutted structure, possessing enough sense to at least approach this from a stealth like prospective. An exploded sink rained water droplets down around me, sprinkling my leather jacket and the rest of my clothes, that I had failed to take off last night. Emerging onto a wider, main street, I find my answer as to who was shooting.

What I saw was a group of men and woman taking cover behind a set of crates and another group of consisting of strange bald, four-eyed men hiding and pouring fire down on the men and woman from the safety of barricades.

Wait... batarians? Were those batarians? From the Mass Effect games?

The hell...?

Oh, that explains it. I'm dreaming. That has to be it. One too many nights playing those damn games on insanity and suddenly they fill my head.

It's then that one of the batarians seems to notice me. And suddenly the entire group appears to be hellbent on making me look like swiss cheese.

Shit! I quickly weave erratically through the street, avoiding the fire that is now solely concentrated on me and attempting to meet up with the group not trying to kill me. Where the fuck was I?!

I wince in pain as one of the bullets narrowly grazes my cheek. Holy shit, a couple inches to the left and that would have been it. The bullet shouldn't of hurt. This was a dream, but my cheek still stung. That can't be-

Another bullet grazes against my shoulder, leaving a shallow trench and I instinctively cover it with my hand.

Shit! That hurt!

Okay, this blows the whole dream theory right out of the water.

I dive the last few feet, landing ungracefully on my stomach, knocking the remaining air out of me while my face slides into the dirt. I personally am just glad to finally make it to safety. I hear a strange mechanical sound and glance up to see the about five unfamiliar guns being pointed at me. Well, I may have misinterpreted the definition of 'safety'.

"Stop! He's human!" A voice, the same one that yelled for everyone to hit the deck earlier, calls out over the group. I can't help but let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding, when the guns retract from my face. I reach in the dirt until my hand finds my glasses and place them securely back onto my face.

A few sighs of relief escape the men and women as well. I notice on closer inspection that many of the members of the group look a little worse for wear. There are five of them; three of which are sporting numerous wounds, and two who should definitely not be holding guns, let alone be in the middle of a war zone. Those two look to be around eighty years old and that's being generous.

A hand suddenly grabs me around the scruff of my shirt and hauls me firmly, but not roughly, to my feet. And I find myself staring at a man with broad shoulders and dark green eyes. He has a horrible gash running across his neck that should probably have caused him to bleed out by now, but a gel like substance seems to have stemmed the bleeding.

"What's your name, son." There's that voice again, nice to know there's a face behind that voice of reason. He must be leading this rag tag group. Or at least that's what I assume. He's the one who seems to be taking charge in this crisis and he has this air of authority around him.

"Matthew Carter, sir." I reply with an even tone that I feel a little proud of holding despite the dire circumstances. But my voice sounds odd to my ears, not quite right. Maybe that explosion did something to my ears. Or maybe I've just finally snapped and gone insane. I'll determine that later.

"I don't recognize him from any of the other farm holds, sir. You with the traders, kid?" Another person, a dark skinned woman who was sporting a bloody bandage wrapped around her forearm, asked curiously.

I bristle a bit at the mention of kid. I'm twenty-two. Hell, I am probably around her age.

I keep my thoughts to myself, however, and just nod my head dumbly. What was I supposed to say? 'Nah, I'm actually looking for my apartment, have you seen it? It looks nothing like this dump. Could you also explain to me why video game characters were trying to kill me? That'd be great, thanks.'

Yeah, no. That wasn't happening. I may have just recently suffered a blow to the head, possibly more than one, but I wasn't that out of it. Yet. I just needed to figure out what was going on here.

Wait. Did she say farm hold? So these... are farmers? Well they sure look like farmers, except the man with dark green eyes. He carries himself... differently. I can't explain it he just seems more tense and ready like my father used to look.

Something about this just tickles at the back of my mind. Like a memory just out of grasp. Weird since I know for a fact, I've never seen him before in my life.

The leader of the group laid his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes with a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry, son. We just saw the traders freighter ship get hit by a shell and go down while trying to lift off. They never had a chance."

Freighter ship? As in space ship? I know for a fact that humanity hasn't come so far technologically, for space travel to be common place. Then again, there were batarians trying to kill us, so I guess reason and logic was taking a day off.

How am I supposed respond to this, anyway? People I just claimed to be my family just died in attempt to avoid this mess. I guess I should be shocked? Sad? Everything's just happening to fast. I need some time to think. Figure out where the I am and what the hell is going on!

I shake my head in an attempt to get my thoughts in order. This was no time to panic. I need to get my shit together, "Okay, just tell me what's going on and how I can help."

The leader looked a little taken aback by my forced calmness, and to be honest I am too, though he immediately regains his composure of control and authority, "Batarians came out of nowhere and just started attacking the colony. New Rosa and the port were hit first and we lost all communications with the other settlements."

Well, that settles it.

I've gone off the deep end.

Insanity aside, I remember enough about the Batarians from the games to know that a lot of them are pirates, slavers, and just generally assholes. So that means that what ever the hell is going on, I should take my chances with the humans, right? As if I had much of a choice.

Another person, an old man with a long Gandalf-ish beard, interjects himself into the conversation, "But the Alliance will come for us. We just have to wait it out." The old man glares at the leader who glares right back. It appears there is some disagreement in the group. If it weren't for the old man's awesome beard I'd be tempted to side with the leader.

"Our families our depending on us, James! We just need to buy them time to get to safety." The old man, James, wilts under the younger man's glare.

Just then, a guttural war cry echoes throughout the street. I sneak a look around the cluster of crates with the rest of the group only to see eight charging batarians heading straight for us. The entire group reacts as expected and opens fire on the suicidal chargers.

Only the batarians don't immediately fall down from the combined assault of three pistols and two rifles. A protective like bubble appears seemingly out of thin air around each of them and absorbs the bullets. The group only succeeds in bringing down two batarians before their upon us.

Unfortunately, for me one of the batarians notices that I am regrettably without a weapon and he charges right for me.

For all of you who have never had a batarian decked in full blade armor shoulder check you, here's a bit of perspective: imagine a charging, human sized, four-eyed rhino. Now imagine that rhino has sharp spines extending from every point in their body and has the ability to wield a gun. Yeah, you can imagine my terror.

"What the fu-!" was all I could get out before an armored shoulder slams into my chest. The sounding of ripping leather tears through the air and I thank every deity I can think of that I chose not to change out of my clothes yesterday. That could just have easily been my flesh. The force of the blow still sends me stumbling backwards.

I take the split-second I have to observe the others only to realize that I'm not getting help anytime soon. They're all to busy with their own fights or with helping each other. No love for the trader kid, I suppose.

The batarian holsters his pistol and spits on the ground. A guttural sound comes from his mouth and it takes me a moment to realize he's talking.

I'm not sure, but I think he just insulted me.

"I'm sorry, what?!"

His eyes scan me in an appraising manner, and I have to fight down a disgusted shiver. What the hell is wrong with this guy? He then produces out a collar type object from his belt. He points from the object than to me.

A collar? He was going to put me in a collar?

For figments of my imagination, these guys were real dicks.

"Try it, asshole. I've been having one hell of a day." I growl back. There it was again; my voice just didn't sound right. Deciding to ignore it, I raise my hands in my best boxing stance. I'm sure I look ridiculous, but after everything so far, I lack the will power to give a damn.

He charges again, but this time, I'm ready for him. Time to see what all that boxing with dad amounted too.

Right before he comes within grappling distance of me, I sidestep his desperate tackle attempt. Timing the distance just right and gathering every bit of strength I have, I slam his face with the best left hook I've ever thrown.

My fist connects solidly with his bottom right eye and he immediately crumples to the ground, howling in pain.

HOLY HELL! THAT HURT!

I cringe and start shaking my hand. A bit of blood drips through my fingers from the split knuckles I now have. Crap, I never actually hit anyone that hard before. Without boxing gloves at least. Note to self: avoid doing that again.

The batarian attempts to get back on his hands and knees and I respond by kicking him the side causing him to roll on his back. Ow! Shit! Right. Forgot he had blade armor. Now there was a big hole in my favorite set of sneakers. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I than wisely and cautiously place my foot on his unprotected neck. The message was, I hope, clear. He moves and I treat his windpipe like a spider on my apartment floor and curb stomp the shit out of him.

Three of his eyes glare up at me. The bottom right one is closed and already red and puffy. He would have one hell of a shiner tomorrow. The batarian sneers as his right hand reaches up to grab at my foot. I'm about to make good on my threat, but what I didn't see was his left hand dart for my other foot, the one holding my balance. A second later, I'm on the ground wrestling with the slaver. You know, in retrospect, I really should have done wrestling in high school.

Somehow, after a very brutal elbow to the jaw, (I really hope it's not broken. I kinda need my jaw), he winds up on top of me with his knees pinning down my shoulders. I feel every cut and bruise from our struggle, most caused by his blade armor. Ugh, my entire body feels sore.

"You know, normally don't get this friendly till the second date." I choke out with his hand clasped around my throat.

Suddenly, he reaches for something at his waist, and a collar of some sorts comes into my vision.

Oh... He was going to enslave me. Right. Not good. Very not good.

My mind instantly went to the memory of that poor girl that was from the first game if Shepard had been a colonist. The one who had been enslaved for so long she developed stockholm syndrome.

The mere thought of being some kind of servant for batarians so soon after waking up this morning sends me into a panic.

Thats when it really drives home for me. This was real. I felt his calloused hands choking me and every bruise and cut I got since waking up in this place.

This. Was. Real.

I renew my struggle with increased vigor, no longer caring about the pointed edges of his armor cutting and stabbing into me. I try to reach for the pocket knife that I always carry around in the front pocket of my jacket, but the batarian's knees were restricting my movements. Dammit, if I had only brought it out in the first place maybe I could have avoided this mess. Stupid, stupid!

My fists slam against his sides, but to little avail. Panic and desperation in my system spike to an almost impossible level. Suddenly my hands find the miracle that would save me. Relief replaces the panic so fast, it's laughable!

The collar comes closer towards my neck, but I immediately break into a fit of hysterical laughter. Damn, I'm actually tearing up.

The batarian appears completely taken aback by my response, his hands still poised to secure the collar around my neck, but then he sneers cruelly down at me, and probably says the batarian equivalent to, 'What's so funny?'

"Just this," I respond by pressing the barrel of the pistol I found at his hip against his side. It is probably the single most relief filled moment of my life. There isn't even time for his eyes to widen as I pull the trigger. His shield never even had a chance to stop the bullet. The slaver immediately rolls off of me, clutching his side and howling in pain.

A sudden burst of adrenaline fuels my next moves and I crash down on top of him with my knees pinning down his arms. One wrapped around his neck and the other pressing the muzzle of my newly acquired pistol against his forehead.

Well, that just happened.

He stares up at me, the condescending look gone from his face. An expression of fear and pain dominating his features.

What now?

_He tried to take you as a slave. Kill him. He deserves it._

Who was I to pass judgement on him? He was just doing his job, right?

_Think of the hundreds he's probably already killed or enslaved. You'd be doing the galaxy a favor._

The hand holding the gun starts to shake

_He wouldn't hesitate to do the same to you._

My grip tightens.

_Do it._

No.

The pistol lowers a bit and I ease my grip. I'm just a college student, a nobody. I couldn't just kill him. It wasn't right. Even if he did try to enslave me.

Suddenly his arm gets free of my relaxed knee and a knife springs into existence in the palm of his hand. It arced straight towards my side.

There was no time to think. I bring the pistol back up and, without even comprehending what I was about to do, I pulled the trigger.

Batarian blood soaks into my crimson t-shirt, and flecks of it showered over my face. That seems to shock me out adrenaline driven panic. My mouth drops open and runs dry as I regard the now headless corpse. I slowly release my grip I have on his stump of a neck, my hands slightly shaking.

Something cold and heavy settles in my chest.

A wave of nausea hits me and I lean to the side and empty the contents of my stomach.

The panic and adrenaline were gone now, but they were replaced by cold shock and the horrible self-loathing at having just killed another man.

I wasn't- I shouldn't be capable of that, right? This wasn't me. I wasn't a killer. A murderer.

Though the headless corpse seemed to blare the contrary.

My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't of relaxed he wouldn't have gotten free and tried too- Dammit it all to hell and back! Why did he even try- Why'd he make me-

This wasn't me. It couldn't be.

_Why not?_

Because- this- It's all wrong! Let me wake up! This has to be some kind of nightmare.

Only I don't wake up.

This was very very real.

This was me murdering a man in cold-blood.

This was me killing an batarian who's look of fear still burned into my retinas as I pressed the muzzle of the pistol against his head. The pistol still wrapped tightly in my hand. I turn and chuck it as far away from me as possible as if it were poison.

I slump back onto my ass and crawl a bit backwards on my hands to put as much distance between myself and the dead slaver. My eyes are still glued to his corpse, though I'm not really seeing it, I'm just staring blankly. I tilt my head to the side again before emptying the contents of my stomach one last time. Wiping the corner of my mouth on the sleeve of my torn-to-pieces jacket, I suddenly feel incredibly dirty and covered in blood. Mostly because I am, but it still felt horrendous. Like it was stained into my skin.

The first thing I do is take off my glasses and wipe the blood from them. I don't know why, it just felt right to hold onto something familiar. It was a trivial thing, but something that I was familiar with.

One of the lenses was cracked in the scuffle and the metal frame looks completely bent beyond repair, but miraculously, they still work. My vision just isn't as clear. I scrub furiously with my thumb and forefinger, but I can't seem to get off any of the blood. It just ends up smearing.

Monster. Killer. Murderer.

Unexpectedly, the weight of a hand settles upon my shoulder. I put my glasses back on and look up to see the leader staring back at me with a hard expression painted on his face.

He nods solemnly at the headless corpse, "I'm sorry you had to see this, kid, but ya need to realize you had no other choice."

Despite his reassurance, I can't stop feeling utterly disgusted with myself. There's always a choice. I stare at the corpse a bit longer before shakily standing to my feet. The hand slips from my shoulder and I turn around to face the man fully. I almost wish I hadn't.

His entire front is covered in blood and I have a feeling not all of it is batarian blood. I'm sure look just as bad, it's what's behind him that causes my eyes to widen. Behind him, leaning against the crates, are the rest of the group. At first glance they appear to be sleeping, but I know better. Their bodies are peppered with holes and a few had their throats slashed.

The scorch marks and batarian corpses decorating the ground around us tells me they went down fighting.

The entire scene makes bile rise in my throat and I have to fight the urge to vomit again. Holy hell, is this what war really looks like? They were just alive a few seconds ago. I was **talking** to them just a couple seconds ago. They couldn't be dead.

All those movies you watched as kid, about war and soldiers. Yeah, they don't do it any justice. There's just something about the blatant violence and carnage of the aftermath that hollywood just can't ever capture on camera.

It then dawned on me how extremely lucky I was. The batarian who came after me thought he could take me prisoner. He could have easily killed me. Their's didn't take that same chance.

Those thoughts only make me feel much worse and I quickly cut my self-loathing off before I become a completely useless wreck. Pull yourself together, idiot. Just... just focus on finding out what's going on. One thing at a time.

"I'm sorry about your friends." the words tumble from my mouth mechanically, as I nod towards the dead farmers. My throat is scratchy from vomiting, but the words are still clear.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "There used to be twenty of us and we first made our stand at the very center of New Rosa." He then shakes his head.

I nod numbly, not looking away from the line of dead farmers.

"Snap out of it, kid. I need you to do something for me." I turn my attention back to the man in front of me, and look at him clearly. He's tired. Very tired. And he has this strange look. This resigned stare. But also determined and ready to take on anything the world throws at him.

I swallow the last of the bile rising in my throat to clear it. To hell with this. I just want to get home. But he was right. I need to pull myself together. Whether I like it or not, I seemed to have found myself in some kind of Mass Effect war zone and if I want to survive I need to figure out what's going on.

"I'm good, sir." I reply hastily, determined to make myself at least look professional and useful. I gingerly reach down and retrieve a folded up rifle from the ground, careful to avoid the dead batarian bodies. The weapon is heavier than I expected, but not unmanageable.

It only takes me a few seconds to realize I had absolutely no idea how to work this thing. Dad taught me and my brothers how to handle a hunting rifle, but this futuristic gun didn't even have any sights. How is anyone even supposed to aim this thing? And where the hell was the clip supposed to go? Oh wait... that's right. This must be sometime before Mass Effect 2 meaning that it worked on an internal heat sink. Or something. I never payed much attention to the inner workings of the game. Now was the time to start kicking myself for not reading all those codex entries.

At least I had some general idea for when I was. Now I just had to determine where and when exactly.

First things first though; I should probably figure out how to unfold the damn thing.

Okay, that looks like the safety, so is this...?

I press a button near the grip and the rifle unfolds in my hands. Heh! I am a genius! Suck on that future!

Not like it'll do me any good without some form of aiming, but I'll take what I can get.

These were just excuses, though. If I was being honest with myself, I don't think I even want to be near any sorts of firearms. Not after what I just did to that batarian. I can't even imagine pulling a trigger again.

"Good," the man sighs as he hoists his own rifle across his shoulder, apparently oblivious to my inner conflict. "This may help though." He then reaches to flips a catch on the rounded top of rifle revealing a built in holographic sight and causing me to blink in bewilderment. How come they never showed this in the game?

Dang it Bioware. Why are you making me look incompetent?

He then reaches for something at his neck line, just below the bloody gash, and tears off a set of dog tags, "I need you to run as far as you can and as fast as you can. Don't worry about the batarians I'll cover you. We sent our families and those not able to fight into the forests, but I'm sure the slavers have already caught up to a few of them." He then gently takes my wrist away from my rifle and opens the palm of my hand. I watch transfixed as he slips the dog tags into my hand. He closes up the hand again. For a man so obviously battle-tested, he is surprisingly altruistic.

"I need you to protect as many of families left as possible," He orders in the voice akin to a drill sergeant, but then in a quieter voice he continues, "And if possible bring these back to my family." I nod in acknowledgement as I slip them into my jean pocket.

He then seems to get an idea, "Your omni-tool? Can I see it?"

My what? He must notice my confused look. "You do have an omni-tool, right kid?" He says incredulously.

I shake my head. He blinks and then mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, 'kids these days'. "Alright, I'm going to record a message on my omni-tool. After that you can have the damn thing. Not like I'll need it soon anyways. Just don't break it, it's new." An orange hologram flickers across his hand. He then looks at me a bit sheepishly, "Do ya mind, giving me some space?"

I nod in understanding and step back a bit, or as much as I can in the ten square feet of space the crates provide as cover. I turn my back on him.

I figure I might as well make myself useful so I start to watch the opposite end of the street. A few bullets fly past my head as I quickly duck back behind cover. Shit! That was not pleasant! Not pleasant at all! I reach my rifle around the corner and spray randomly in the general direction of the batarian's cover.

The rifle butt kicks back slamming against my shoulder. A deafening crack fills my ears and I flinch out of habit.

Holy crap this rifle packs a punch! It took me days to get used to a shotgun's recoil, so that didn't bother me, it was the loud crack when you fired that scared the shit out of me. Need to get used to that if I want to be somewhat useful in the future. And I thought the modern firearms made me flinch.

I look back at the man who was about to sacrifice himself. He continues to whisper into the orange hologram in a low and soothing tones while I continue to feel incredibly uncomfortable. This is a private moment and I'm a complete stranger. Hell, I don't even know his name. This is wrong. Very wrong.

Then again, nothing has been right since I woke up here.

I only catch pieces of his message, and I try to tune it out. The words aren't meant for me.

He turns back towards me and holds out to me a wrist band like object. I take it and slip it around my wrist. It's an odd thing, it seems to be made out of chrome like metal but it acts like elastic. There's also a wire type thing that apparently wraps around my middle finger.

On a hunch, I flick my middle finger until the wire is pulled taught. An orange hologram extends across my forearm. The inner tech nerd in me was currently having a seizure at the thought of having access to the machine, but I know that now isn't the time to start playing with futuristic tech. I flick my middle finger again and the hologram disappears.

"You can tell them yourself, sir."

A dry chuckle escapes his cracked a bloody lips, "You're an alright, kid, Carter." He says cheerily clapping me hard on the back, which nearly sends me toppling to the ground again, "My daughter's around your age." He gives me a sad smile, "Under different circumstances, I bet you two could have been fast friends. Maybe you still can be."

Why was everyone taking cracks at my age? Seriously I was twenty-fucking-four-

Wait. I have been feeling shorter and a bit... softer in the midsection. My clothes felt a bit looser, and my reflexes weren't at all like they should have been. My hand casually reaches up towards my head and I feel long hair through my fingers. I haven't kept it this long since... since I was sixteen? Seventeen?

Ah goddammit.

The man pats my shoulder one more time, obviously oblivious to the situation I was in. He gives me another sad smile, before shouldering his rifle and heading back to his position against the crates, "I'll give you cover fire. As soon as I give the order. You start running." he calls back, not looking at me.

I can't let this happen it wasn't right. I shake my head before realizing he can't see the gesture, "Sir, we can-."

"And enough of this 'sir' bullshit," he calls back in a reprimanding yet good natured tone, "I haven't been in the Alliance for ten years now. The name's Martin Shepard."

I just stare at the back of the man as he peers around the crates, my mouth suddenly dry.

It was only then that it all clicked in my head. This is Mass Effect. And I am on Mindoir. I am on Mindoir during the freaking batarian slavers attack.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, I am so screwed.

And I just met Commander Shepard's father. It could just be a coincidence. Shepard wasn't that uncommon of a name. Still, what are the fucking odds?

Under normal circumstances I would totally be having a nerdgasm. But these weren't normal circumstances. This was me letting another man take the fall while I run away. I can't let that happen. It just wasn't right.

This is not what I would imagine when being trapped in a game.

"We get out of this together, Shepard. I can help." Wow that sounded incredibly weird. Good weird. But still extremely weird. I can thank my family for one thing, teaching me to use my best outside voice. It is surprisingly easy to learn when your father treats you like a soldier. It sounds strange coming from a sixteen year old, but it still makes Martin Shepard stand a bit straighter.

Of course an annoying voice in the back of my head that sounded suspiciously like my father quickly chimes in.

_Ha! What do you mean by 'help'? Your skill with a gun is almost nonexistent. How many times out hunting did you nearly shoot yourself? You'd be doing the batarians a favor by even trying._

Shut the hell up, I'm awesome.

Suddenly an idea comes to life in my head. It's crazy, borderline suicidal, but it just may work. "Do you have any spare kinetic barriers?" I ask, glancing towards the dead colonists. I didn't feel like scavenging from a corpse, but for my plan to work, I'd need one.

Shepard nodded, a bit taken aback, "We all had one, not that they did us any good at close range."

I nod before hesitantly bending down in front of one of the dead colonists. I noticed they all wore the same kind of belts. I hope I'm not making a complete ass of myself by just looting a random article of clothing. I give Shepard a questioning look as a I remove the belt from the colonist formerly known as James and he nods his head in confirmation. Right, this must be it.

Mr. Shepard seem to look at me in a new light. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You sure you're a trader, kid?"

"Are you fit to run?" I ask, deciding to ignore the question.

Shepard nods, suddenly all business and not at all fazed by my dismissal of his question, "No. Maybe. Medi-gel's holding me together. Most of my necks fine, despite the gash, but I think one of the batarian's blade armor pierced deep enough to nick a lung." He smiled ruefully, "Should have worn a leather jacket. That old relic must have saved you from the worst of it."

Shit, "Okay, how many batarians are there behind that barricade," I gesture down the street.

"There were eighteen and we just took out eight. I don't think they'll be getting reinforcements, these kinds of pirates only work in small strike teams, so we only have to deal with ten.

"Good," I nod before taking my position by his side. Ten against two weren't the best odds, but what else could we do? I then point towards down the road towards the tree line at the end of the road. It looked to be about ten maybe fifteen meters away. "I can sprint like mad towards the forest and take up a position in the trees. They'll follow. They don't know there's two of us. You can feign death. Once the batarians get to the very middle of the street we rain hell on them."

Before I even finish that last sentence, Martin Shepard shakes his head, "That's suicide kid. And every moment we waste here is a moment the families remain unprotected. Besides, I can't ask you to risk your life for me. I'll probably bleed out soon anyways."

"That's not true! We can get out of this and save your family!" I insist desperately. No kid should have to grow up without their father. It's just not right. And if I remember Mindoir correctly, Shepard doesn't have any family left after this. She deserves better.

"You're a brave kid. A smart kid. And I'm starting to think there's more to you than ya led us to believe." Martin Shepard smiled and with a curious look in his eyes, "But ya can't save everybody. If you try to do more than you're capable of, you'll just end driving yourself insane or getting yourself killed."

He's right. I know he's right, but that still doesn't make it any easier.

He then turned back to looking behind the crates, "Looks like their about to make another charge. "When I give the signal, start running." Martin Shepard then starts counting down on his fingers from three before I can protest.

Three...

I lean my head back against the crates, keeping an eye on his hand. I can't believe I'm just leaving him like this. In this universe for like ten minutes and a guy is already dying for me. What the hell is wrong with this picture?

Two...

I tighten the grip on my acquired rifle and brace my foot against the ground.

One!

Pushing off from the crates I take off running down the street, immediately hearing the sound of rifles being discharged as resounding cracks echo between the buildings. A multitude of flashes race past me and disappear into the growing tree line. I see my shields flicker around me until all the bullets racing past me stop. I still hear the sound of a firefight, but now the batarians seem to be distracted by something else.

Then, as I reach the forrest, the gunfire goes silent. A muffled grunt of pain and the faint sound of something hitting the ground hard is the last thing that reaches my ears before I break into the tree line.

I don't look back. I just continue running hellbent on finding Shepard. The one who was going to be the savior of the galaxy. Not the one who just gave his life for mine.

* * *

**Author Note: I'd like to thank Endrius for catching one of my probably many mistakes.**

**I'll try to make sure that doesn't happen again, I thought I edited that. Thanks again**

**Stay classy. **


	2. Chapter 2

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear." - Ambrose Redmoon

* * *

The trees are just a blur around me, and by the time I stop running, the sun has completely set, plunging the forest into darkness.

And as a consequence, causing me to trip and stumble at least half a dozen times before I finally give up my dead sprint.

"This…is…bullshit..."

I'm hunched over, wheezing from asthma and completely out of breath. Not to mention drenched in sweat. I should probably ditch my leather jacket, but it was my granddad's and I just couldn't abandon it in good conscious.

Goddamn, my asthma hasn't been this bad in years. And I'm pretty sure I could run a lot farther than a mile before collapsing in exhaustion! What's the whole point of making me sixteen again anyways? My horribly awkward teenage limbs are part of the reason I've been stumbling around like a hapless drunk. Completely counter productive.

I take a moment to sit down against a tree and to fold the rifle in my hands back up. I then take the belt from my pants (not the kinetic barrier, just my normal belt) and thread the muzzle of the gun through the buckle and the other end of the belt through the trigger guard. I tug experimentally at my makeshift sling, before nodding in approval. It would have to do for now. At least this would make it easier to carry.

After recovering from my exhaustion, I search around for the rough trail I've been following since entering the tree line. The colonists left a pretty easily detectable path in their mad dash for the relative safety of the forest. Unfortunately, the batarians probably found the same trail and thought it just as easy to follow. And it's getting pretty dark. I need to find the colonists fast. The omni-tool flashes across my arm and I use it to light my way.

I take off running once more, ignoring the ache in my lungs. This is no time to dilly-dally, Carter. Martin Shepard bought you time. Now it's all on you! I owe him that much.

After only a few yards I trip and fall right on my face for what feels like the thousandth time that day. All this dirt I keep falling straight into really can't be good for any of my cuts. Do they still have Neosporin in the future? I really hope so.

Cursing violently, I turn to look at the whatever caught my leg, flashing neon orange light from the omni-tool and expecting to see some odd branch or piece of shrubbery. Only it wasn't a branch or bush that caught my ankle. A pair of eyes stare lifelessly back at me. The sight of the dead women sends me scrambling back.

Holy-! Where the hell did she come from?! My mind races a mile a minute as I see a scorch mark on the poor middle aged woman's torso. Those bastards, she didn't even look to be armed. What happened to taking prisoners?!

I step closer and kneel down to close the woman's eyes. Her skin feels glacial against my blood and dirt encrusted hand, causing an involuntary shiver to travel down my spine. I really don't know what else to do. It's not like I can give her a proper burial. That would take to much time and the thought of there still being people left alive out there doesn't exactly help. I raise myself to my feet and cautiously back away from the corpse before turing around and continuing my sprint down the trail.

The farther in I travel the more dead bodies I seem to find. I nearly lose what little remains in my stomach I have left when an unmoving child crosses my field of vision before I swiftly turn away. Dammit, no one deserves that let alone a child. What was wrong with these batarians? Wasn't the whole point of this raid was to enslave the colonists? How many have they captured already? Who was left?

I shake my head furiously, trying to dispel the trepidation that was slowly building. Don't think. Just keep moving.

Dammit, the Shepard's must have gone far. I don't know how long I've been running but my lungs felt like they were about to burst. All the cuts and bruises I accumulated in my scuffle with the batarian slaver are really starting to hurt like a bitch. I should have searched some of the batarians for medi-gel, though the thought of looting the dead left a bad taste in my mouth.

The dim light that shines through the branches and leaves comes from two crescent moons. I'm sure if I stopped to look up they would be breathtaking, but for a kid running half blind through a forest, I'm just glad they illuminate the ten feet in front of me. The air in the forest is also starting to grow frigid and cold, which doesn't help my asthma at all. My breath comes out in vapor clouds.

The crack of a gun pierced through the forest causing me to come sliding to a halt in front of a particularly large tree that stands alone in a clearing. I take a second to catch my breath, using my free hand to lean against the trunk, and try to determine where the scream might have come from. It sounded close. My head tilts from left to right waiting for the sound, eyes narrowing when the forest remains strangely silent except for the a the chirp of bugs and the rustle of the wind. It may have come from the right. But I couldn't be sure. And this wasn't really a time I could just run in a random direction and hope for the best.

My heart raced erratically in my chest, and I wiped my clammy hands over the jacket. The unfamiliar feel of the rifle barrel brushes across my palm.

Then the same crack rings through the trees, followed by a shout of, "Go to hell!" A shock of adrenaline spikes through my system, revitalizing my tired body.

I take off running again towards the sounds of a firefight. (Yes, because running towards the sound of gunfire worked out great the last time.) It was definitely resonating from the right. I'd bet money on it if I had any.

My feet only carry me a short distance before I'm met with a sight that will probably be etched in my memory forever. A young girl, sixteen, maybe seventeen, in a light brown outfit, was sprinting in the direction of the clearing I just emerged from, consequently, in my direction. She hasn't seemed to notice me yet, but that may be because of the three batarians chasing after her while she shot blindly at them with a pistol. A blue aura of light crackled like energy around her sprinting form, making her look like some kind of vengeful angel.

Alright, I may have exaggerated that last part, but it was still very impressive. I've never seen biotics in action before (obviously) and even if all she was doing was flinging a few rocks and branches at her assailants, I'm still fascinated by it. I can't help but hear Ben Kenobi's voice echo in my head whispering, 'Use the force, Luke.'

Without warning the young girl trips and falls straight into the undergrowth. I flinch in empathy, remembering my own face having become quite acquainted with Mindoir's unforgiving soil a multitude of times in the last couple hours.

The batarians bare down on her, and my mind flashes back to the dead bodies I encountered on the trail. And then to the batarian that had just tried to enslave me. Only one of them has his rifle unfolded and in his hands, the other two have slave collars out and at the ready. They are practically right on top of her when the rifle finds it's way back into my hands. The rifle springs to life and I hesitate for a split second before making my decision and pulling the trigger...

Only to realize the safety was still on.

Somewhere, dad is laughing his ass off.

Alright, off to a great start, Matt. Now let's try this again.

I switch off the safety and depress the trigger.

The superheated slugs the size of sand grains traveling at supersonic speeds certainly get the batarian's attention. I aim for the one closest to where the girl fell. The four-eyed bastard that has his gun trained on her prone form. I keep firing even after he stumbles back in surprise, attempting to train his gun on me. My aim is absolute shit, but that doesn't matter at this close range. I keep firing even as his shield flickers out. Keep firing even as the bullets cut through his armor and blood splatters across the forest floor. I don't stop until I see his heavy form collapse into the foliage.

My eyes move to the next target in an instant and my body reacts before my mind can register that I just killed another person. The second batarian, who just stared at me in shock as his friend was gunned down, is now scrambling for the sidearm at his hip. Too late. The rifle in my hands is already spitting out a series of resounding cracks. The girl who fell is now crouching down low and shooting at him as well. His shields go down and a slug from the girl's pistol catches him in the face. It was an impressive shot.

My luck seems to run out, though, because my gun chooses that moment to overheat. The metal of the gun actually burns my hands. A yelp of pain escapes me and it takes everything I had not to drop the smoking firearm onto the ground in surprise. The thing actually burned you when it overheated?! What a crap design!

I round to face the remaining slaver, only to see him charging straight for me. The final batarian had time to pull out his own firearm. A shotgun is in his hands and a snarl of anger rips itself from his throat as he levels the gun on me.

He pulls shoots, still running towards me. My eyes bulge and my throat closes around a pained cry as I actually feel the impact of the tiny projectiles against the barrier. Breath leaves my lungs as what felt like a canon hit my chest and I have to stop myself from falling flat on my ass. Dammit! that thing could tear me apart like paper. Were it not for the flimsy barrier, that was now completely spent from the first shot, I would have been nothing more than a crimson stain on the ground.

However, before the batarian could get any closer, he trips and slides backwards. Almost as if something has a grip on his leg.

I only then notice the red-headed girl standing back on her feet. Her right hand wrapped in an azure blue and grasping towards him and the pistol firmly secured in her left hand. There's this look of pure unadulterated rage on her face and for a moment even I'm frightened. She kneels down, her knees pressing against the batarian's lower back so he couldn't get away and the muzzle of the pistol is suddenly pressed against the back of the batarian's skull.

Then my mind jumps back to the moment when I have the pistol pressed against the slavers forehead and, in a rare moment of understanding and clarity, I know exactly what she's planning to do.

"Don't-!" The resounding sound of the crack of a gun interrupts whatever I was about to say. Honestly, I don't even know how that sentence was supposed to end. I couldn't ask her not to kill him. Not when I would have done the same thing. Hell, I did do the same thing.

The anger never left the girl's face. She simply grasped the pistol tighter, and it's almost as if she's frozen in place. But then an anguished cry rips through the clearing and I stare in shock as the girl unloads round after round into the pulverized head of the batarian. Her eyes are screwed shut and her mouth is agape from the screaming as crimson blood splashes across her lightly tanned skin. And I'm completely and utterly terrified of her.

Mercifully, steam eventually rolls from the muzzle of the gun, signaling that the pistol had overheated in her hands. Awareness and sympathy shoot through me, replacing the terror as the girl stands up shakily, covers her mouth, and then promptly turns to the side to loose the contents of her stomach onto the grass next to her.

I hesitantly walk over to her. Dammit, I'm not really good at being a comforting person, but I know what she's going through so that has to count for something, right? My hand gingerly pats her back, trying to be soothing and empathetic, "It's alright. It's alright." I repeat the muttered phrase like a mantra. As if simply saying it will make it so.

"How is this 'alright'?" she coughs out, her voice hoarse. She wipes her mouth across her forearm and spits on the ground, before turning a heated glare on me. "None of this is 'alright'."

She's completely correct, I realize. None of this is at all 'alright'. People shouldn't be killing other people. Guns shouldn't be able to pulverize flesh like that. And I certainly shouldn't be here. This is anything but 'alright'. But I can't tell her know that. I'm supposed to act the calm, collected, voice of reason here. I'm supposed to keep my head.

Easier said than done.

"It will be alright," The flash of a muzzle and the batarian's expression of fear, rises unbidden to my mind, as if to contradict my words, "You don't have to like killing or even get used to it, but these batarians aren't going to think twice about killing or even enslaving either of us. We just need to get out of here." I mean what I say. Martin Shepard was right. We can sort through all the emotions and trauma later. Right now we need to just focus on survival. I then notice the odd way she's leaning to her right.

I look at her left leg and notice the material around her ankle is torn (no doubt from running through shrubbery and thorn bushes) and the exposed skin is slightly swollen and red.

"Can you walk?" I'm pretty sure I already know the answer. That ankle looks pretty sprained.

The girl flinches before putting on a defiant expression as she tries to put more weight on her injured leg, "I'm fine. You're the one that looks like shit."

I blink. Well, that was a blatant lie. Not the part about me looking like shit. I knew that part was true. The part where she said she was fine. That was obviously a lie.

"No. No, you are not fine," I'm only know basic first aid, but I don't have any medical supplies on me. Not that it would help. Sighing, I sling my rifle back across my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the girl shiver and rub at her forearms when she thinks I wasn't looking. That futuristic getup (What was it called in the game? A spacer outfit?) offered no protection from the freezing cold that was quickly descending on the forest. I shrug off my jacket and toss the torn article of clothing her way, "Put this on. You need it more than me. Not much I can do about your ankle though. Sorry."

She caught the jacket before throwing it right back at my face, "I don't need your damn jacket."

"The hell you don't." I snap back suddenly feeling all the weariness and anger at waking up in another world, walking into a firefight and then running like hell was on my heels through a damn forest, and then participating in yet another firefight. Every bit of frustration at having no clue what I was supposed to do suddenly came to the forefront of my mind. What was I even doing here? The only thing I had to worry about yesterday was what I was going to have for breakfast the next morning.

"Get the hell away from me. I don't want you or anyone else's help." The teenager then stalked past me, shoulder checking me roughly in the process and flaring her biotics, probably in an attempt to appear more intimidating. Which works.

Before she is completely out of my reach, I grab her shoulder and spin her back around to face me. Her biotics flare further in response, promising pain. I should probably be trying to make a good first impression, or at least be a bit afraid of an obviously pissed off biotic, but at the moment, the only thing on my mind was staying alive to see the sunrise.

"Hold up one damn second there, Bitch-pants McCrabby." I shove the jacket into her hands, "You seem to have made the mistake in thinking that I give a flying-fuck about what you want. What you and I both need is too stick together. I promised Martin Shepard that I would help any remaining families that were still alive out here. From what I've seen, you're all that's left. So guess what? You're stuck with me. Sorry if you were expecting a knight in shining freaking armor."

She's staring at me in what I think is shock. Good. Maybe I got through her thick skull. And people call me stubborn...

"My father?"

I stare dumbly for a few seconds before my brain mentally restarts and begins screaming at me. Idiot! This is Shepard! Future savior of the galaxy! Standing right in front of you, asshole! How am I this stupid?

She even looks a little like default Shepard. Her hair is a dark red that cascades over her shoulders. Her eyes are the same dark green as her father's. Her voice is almost exactly like Jennifer Hale's.

Make words with your mouth, numb nuts! Before she decides you're not worth her time!

My voice calms down a bit, "Yeah," I reach into my pocket and dig out the dog tags Martin Shepard gave to me, "He wanted me to give these to his family." I hand them to her. I'm about to mention the message he left on the omni-tool but I promptly close my mouth shut with a click of my teeth. We should first get to safety before I show her that.

Shepard takes the dog tags with jerky mechanical movements. Staring at them, but not really seeing them. Her gaze was a million miles away, "He's gone?"

Damn, how do you tell someone their father just died? Why do I have to be the bearer of bad news? "Uh, yeah. I'm really sorry." My god, that sounded lame and pathetic.

"And I'm the first person you've run into," she asks, not reacting to my words.

"Alive, anyway." I instantly regret my callus tone. Comforting people is really not my strong suit.

Shepard doesn't respond. She just stares numbly at the ground beneath her feet for a few minutes. I somewhat expect her to explode in anger and try to kill me. Could I blame her if she did? I was the reason her father was dead. He stayed behind to make time for me.

Instead, she puts the dog tags around her neck, grasping them tightly. She also shrugs into the shredded jacket, although she does it grudgingly and she shoots me a death glare the entire time she's putting it on. That'll teach me to be nice to people.

She then grabs my wrist roughly and without saying a word, begins to limp towards the clearing.

"Hey, wait. Where are we going?" I ask as I stumble forwards with her.

"You said you promised to help all the remaining families," Shepard said without looking back at me. "So you're going to help me and my family."

Wait, what? Dammit, I was really tired of feeling confused.

"What are you talking about?" I asked as we emerged back into the clearing. Though a small flicker of an idea was starting to emerge from my slow-witted mind. Was it possible I made it in time? That I could still help save the Shepard's?

My answer came when the red-headed girl called out over the clearing, "Mom! Tommy!"

Actually, there was no answer at all.

"Mom! Tom!"

Still no answer, "Maybe they kept moving on ahead?" I supply helpfully.

"Maybe you should shut up."

You are not a very nice lady.

"Hey, I was only trying to help. I have a name by the way. Matthew Carter. Though my friends call me Matt. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I don't care." She snaps, fixing me with a glare before turning back to the clearing. Shepard bites the inside of her cheek, her eyes scanning the clearing. She then pulls at my wrist again and we continue towards a seemingly random direction.

I can't help the wry smile that spreads across my face. At least she hasn't tried to kill me yet.

"How do you know they went this way?" I ask as I narrowly avoid slamming my already abused forehead against a swinging branch.

"I don't." she replies with a tone that clearly meant that she was through talking.

Ah, maybe this is how Shepard gets rescued by that passing Alliance patrol. But that means she never finds her family again. I wonder what happened to them? Did they die somewhere in this forest or did the batarians enslave them? The thought is sobering and I can't stop the next words from tumbling out of my mouth, "Do you have some way of contacting them?"

"I didn't exactly have a lot of time to pack my things before my home was torched." Shepard snaps, "Don't you think if I had some way of contacting them I would have done so by now?" Her eyes still searching for some sign of her mother and brother.

Alright, that was a valid point. I'll just try and stop asking stupid question from now on.

I wonder if asking how to get back to the 21st century is a stupid question?

Probably.

She stops suddenly causing me to run into her. I didn't realize how much taller I was than her until I nearly knocked her over. In the games she was always this larger to life character. Heh, go figure. Maybe this was before her growth spurt, "Dear Ghandi, shorty, warn me before you come to a complete stop."

Her grip tightens around my wrist. She rounds on me angrily gesturing towards my upraised hand, "Idiot! You have an omni-tool!"

"Yeah?" Isn't it pretty standard hardware during this time? At least the way Martin Shepard made sound, it was pretty common. It then dawns on me what she's getting at, "Can we use it to contact your mom?"

She looks at me as if I was a child, "As long as you have above a third grade education, then yes." Okay that one was definitely an insult, though I choose to ignore it. How was I supposed to know what it could do? I just got the damn thing.

The omni-tool on my wrist opens and the orange hologram flickers to life. It bathes the dark forest around us in a neon glow, illuminating Shepard's cut and defiant face and my bruised and bloody one. Alright, better learn how to use this fast. I don't think Shepard will let me hear the end of it if I mess up dialing a phone.

I hesitantly scroll across the display. I really hope I don't somehow accidentally break this.

"Hurry up, dumbass!"

"You're the dumbass... dumbass." I mutter back. Oh, me and my witty comebacks.

I focus on the glowing orange hologram until I find an icon that vaguely looks like a contact list. Following this hunch I press it and, low behold, a series of names and numbers springs to life in front of me. This is pretty awesome. So many hours could be spent exploring this simple piece of technology. I scroll down a bit before realizing I have no idea what I'm looking for, "Uh, what's your mom's name?"

"Incompetent." Shepard grabs my forearm and pulls it towards her. Fingers dance across the hologram until I hear the sound of it dialing and the name Hannah Shepard being displayed in bright orange letters. Really though? One hundred and fifty years into the future and it's still the same annoying tone? Why the-

"Martin? Is that you?" A hesitant voice breaks through my thoughts. The sound came from the orange hologram across my wrist.

"Mom! It's Jane! Where are you? Are you and Tommy alright?" Ah, Jane. So that was her name. At least the name was the same as default Shepard, as well.

"Jane? How did you get your father's omni-tool? Is he with you? Are you alright?"

Jane rounds on me with a glare, no doubt now wondering the same thing as her mother.

I better interject myself into the conversation, just so I can clear the air and Jane can stop giving me the stare of death, "I'm sorry, ma'am, Martin Shepard gave me his omni-tool before he... died." Dammit, that wasn't any easier the second time.

There was a long pregnant silence over the comm and from the murderous glare Jane is sending my way, I'm pretty sure I should have burst into flame or at least have been biotically thrown into a tree by now.

"I-I see." The voice is now cracked and filled with frayed tension, "Thank you for telling me this Mr...?

"Carter, ma'am."

"Thank you, Carter." Her voice suddenly becomes all business. No hint of the tiredness that formerly lined it, "Jane, you and Mr. Carter have to get to the out of this forest. The Alliance is sure to come for us, but they can't see us in these dense trees."

"I'm not leaving without you, mom." Jane insists. This is gut wrenching. I really should not even be part of this conversation. I don't handle these types of matters well. Some would even go so far as to call me an emotional cripple that spends too much of his time with computers and not out socializing. And those people would be right.

"Sweetie, it's a big forest. Tommy and I will meet on the other end, but you can't waste any time searching for us. Carter, you keep my daughter safe alright. I know how stubborn she can be, but can you look after her for me?"

Seriously? As if a biotic needs protecting, "I will, ma'am."

"Mom! Just tell us where you went from the clearing and I can find you!"

"I love you so much, Jane. Promise me you'll be safe."

"Mom-"

"Promise me."

Jane's eyes flickered with a multitude of emotion, "I promise, mom... I love you too."

"I know sweetie. Don't you worry about me or Tom-." Suddenly there's a noise in the background. The sound of heavy footsteps. Jane's mother continues our conversation, but now her voice is nothing but a quiet whisper, "I can't talk now, Jane, the batarians are getting closer. Take care!"

And with that the omni-tool shut off. I guess that means the call ended. It takes a couple seconds for my eyes to readjust to the dim light of the stars and moons. During that time neither I nor Jane say a word. Not that I can blame her. I don't even notice that she has let go of my hand.

"Well, that didn't sound good." The remark is unnecessary and probably horribly inappropriate, but something has to fill the silence that now hangs heavy in the air. I barely realize she's already limping away, "Hey wait! Where are you going?" I ask after her, rushing to catch up.

"To find my mom and brother, dumbass," she replies without even turning around.

Oh...

Shit.

I don't know how Mindoir was supposed to go, but I was pretty sure this wasn't in the script. "Somebody wasn't listening." I say quickly trying to undo my mistake, "You heard her. She and your brother are going to meet us on the other side." Except I know that's false. And I get the feeling she knows it's a lie too. One of those stupid little white lies parents tell their children. Like Santa Claus or the tooth fairy.

I shouldn't have let her notice my omni-tool, dammit. We could of happily been rescued by a passing Alliance patrol in an hour or so. If this really is Mindoir, and I am in the Mass Effect Universe, then I did not want to be changing the games this early. What if the patrol misses us entirely? I might have just screwed the galaxy out of it's savior.

She stops, turns around, and grabs me by the collar of my shirt, dragging me down until her face is centimeters away from mine. Funny how scary someone can be when you are given clear view of the cold rage in their features.

Her tone is deathly quiet, and once again, I find myself scared shitless.

"I've lost my dad, I've lost my home, I've lost my friends. The only thing I have left is my brother and mother. I'm. Going. To. Find. Them. You can either get on board or get out of the way." The next thing I know, I'm on my back with the wind knocked out of me, vaguely aware of the slight cackle of biotic blue energy that spin like wisps in the air above me.

Did I just get shoulder checked by Jane Shepard? That would have been pretty awesome if it hadn't been so terrifying. My hands reach up and start poking hesitantly at my chest to make sure nothing is broken. Good, looks like the crazy girl didn't do too much damage. It was gonna leave one hell of a bruise though. I then crawl onto my hands and knees, stumble to my feet and to the sight of her limping away. Move your ass, skippy, this is no time to dilly-dally. Remembering to pick up the rifle that was knocked to the ground in that little argument, I jog towards her.

"Hey, wait up!" I easily cover the distance she's already put between us. She's not getting very far on that ankle of hers. I fall into step beside her, "I'll help you. And for the record; the shoulder check was overkill. You could have just flared your biotics or something to get your point across."

She just snorts glaring at me from the corner of her eye, "What? Not gonna try and save your own skin?"

Of course I wanted to turn and run and save my own skin! What kind of question is that?! Why isn't she as frightened as I am about all this?! She's a teenager and she's handling this better than I ever could.

But I don't say any of this.

Instead I smirk and reply, "Nah, living is overrated anyways. Besides, I promised to protect your family and that's exactly what I'm going to do." Family is something I could understand. I would have torn this forest apart if it had been my family. Hell, I know that my siblings and I are constantly fighting, and that I didn't exactly part with my father on the best of terms. But they were still family. And I would do anything for them. Even if it meant charging straight back into another firefight.

Besides that, I couldn't let Jane charge in alone. She's the main character. It'd be really stupid of me if I ended up getting her killed.

"Great, so you're a boy scout." She mutters scowling at me, "I can take care of myself just fine."

"You may be a biotic, but I'm awesome. You're argument is invalid." I respond almost immediately with a grin I don't really feel. She won't notice it's all a facade in this dim light though, so it doesn't matter. Best I can do is diffuse the tension in the air and, surprisingly, it seems to work. Shepard almost smiled there! She may have tried to disguise it as a grimace but I know I saw her lips twitch!

We settle into a slow walk, or limp in Jane's case, and continue on in silence before an idea dawns on me, "It's a pretty big forest. Do you think we can pinpoint where you're mother is using this omni-tool? You know, save some time?"

Jane, for once, looks at me in surprise and not anger or utter disgust. Which is always a good sign.

"Maybe. I'm not very good at tech stuff. You have any experience with technology?"

I knew a bit about computers, just enough to know what I was doing, but this technology was so advanced it would be akin to an expert on the typewriter saying he knows all about smartphones.

Still, how hard could it be to learn in the next few seconds? It's not like we had many options, and wandering the forest aimlessly didn't sound very appealing. Time to see if all those hours hanging out in the computer lab instead of talking with girls was time well spent.

"These things have extranet right?" I ask opening the orange glowing magic bracer. I almost said internet. Now that would have made me sound dumb. I swipe across the holographic screen. My second crash course in new age technology begins now.

"Extranet access, GPS, address book... phone." She says the last one looking pointedly at me, but I skillfully ignore her and adjust my glasses slightly to rest closer to my eyes. I can't believe how bent out of shape they are. There's actually a spiderweb of cracks in the left frame. It's a small miracle I can still see at all.

"Okay, I think I found it. No... Wait. Fuck berries, I think I just opened a... what is this?" A glowing sphere replaces the main part of the holographic screen.

I could just imagine Shepard rolling her eyes as I studied the glowing orb, "It's something my dad called an Overload. You better not mess with, he once used it to short out several..." She trailed off and I looked up to see a distant expression on her face.

Shit. Distract her, ya idgit! "Yeah, I'd probably end up shocking myself or something." I grin as her eyes suddenly snap back into focus, and she glares at me half-heartedly.

I turn back to the omni-tool, ignoring the sudden silence, "Uh right," I press a large triangle icon, hoping for the best and lo and behold, a search engine pops up. Nice, time to get to work.

My computer savvy friend in college showed me an app for the iphone in which you could track your friends phones. Seeing as how this is 150 years later, there should be something similar somewhere on the extranet...

"What's taking so long?"

"Give me a second, half-pint," my eyes are glued to the orange display while my fingers typed.

"I'd rather be short than stupid!" She bites out.

Ah, here's something; It was a program that tracked other people's omni-tools, provided you had the omni-tool's contact information. I downloaded the program to my omni-tool and opened it up. Just as I feared, it required that the other person authorize you access to his or her's omni-tool's position, but since Mrs. Shepard was otherwise occupied and since my genius friends were kind enough to show me how to 'modify' programs.

My fingers dance across the screen. It doesn't take me long to realize that I don't know jack shit. It may take a couple of hours just to understand all of this. That's time that we didn't have. I release a heavy sigh. There has to be an easier way to do this.

Wait... if the extranet is anything like the internet, than it's probably already filled with hacking programs. Idiot! I quickly find one that looked the least likely to carry a shit ton of viruses. (Did they even have computer viruses in the future?)

I download it and, after running the app through the hacking program, we're good to go.

"There!" I scroll back to the phone book and memorize Mrs. Shepard's contact info before relaying it through the program. Sure enough, a three dimensional compass materializes in front of Jane and I. Basking us in the orange glow.

"Come on! They're this way!" Jane grabs my wrist again, and we veer sharply to the left. The arrow on the compass swiveled with us. We're moving/limping at the pace of a fast walk and even though I'm sweaty, tired, and probably still bleeding from numerous cuts and lacerations I also realize something; This is not going to work. We're moving too slow. Outpacing Jane would be an easy feat and the dot that was Hannah Shepard was getting farther away with each step we took.

"Wait, uh, Jane. We need a plan" Damn, it was weird to call her by her first name. All I ever heard anyone call her was 'Shepard' or 'Commander.' This could take some getting used to.

She doesn't stop, "We don't have time." Jane says fixated on the compass of the omni-tool.

"We'll never catch up at this rate," I point out. She has to see that, right? We could never even hope to track down her mother and brother like this.

Jane finally stops and crosses her arms, her lips and eyes narrow in annoyance, "What do you suggest?"

She wasn't going to like this. I can already tell.

"Get on my back."

Her eyebrows raise, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I move to kneel down in front of her, "I can carry you for a good bit of distance. We may not move as fast as them but if they keep stopping to try and hide than-"

"No." Jane states simply, making it clear that the discussion was over. She tries to limp away.

"This is the best I can think of," I call to her, "Unless you have any other scathingly brilliant ideas, this is the only way to catch up to your mother. Like it or not, we aren't going to be moving very fast on that leg of yours."

This causes her to pause, and I have to repress my smirk. At least she can be reasoned with on rare occasions.

Eventually, I feel her weight settle on my back. She grumbled and swore the entire time, but at least she was compliant. It was a bit awkward at first with the rifle still slung over my shoulder and her pistol clutched in one hand, but eventually we work out a position of least discomfort.

After that it was just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other.

And thus began our quest to find Jane's family.

* * *

We were wandering those forests for quite some time. My arms were getting awfully sore from lugging around Jane like a profanity muttering backpack, but at least she didn't threaten me with castration as much as the first hour. We periodically stopped for rests, though Jane spurred me on like a race horse at every pause.

She was a bit like an abusive slave driver, now that I thought about it, whenever I complained about getting hungry, tired, or thirsty, (or even on the rare occasions all of the above) Jane would tug hard at my hair or ears to keep me moving.

She is a very abusive person, now that I think about it.

The omni-tool directions guide us in the semi-darkness as I jog as fast as my legs could carry us, which was not very fast, but still faster than limping.

A painful tug at my ear causes me to nearly drop Jane, "Ow, ow, ow! What is it? Why? We're almost there!" I shout trying to crane my neck to see Jane.

However, she quickly clamped a hand over my mouth and whispered harshly into my ear, "Shut it, moron! Something's not right."

My annoyance fades and I give a nod of understanding, lowering her to the ground. I shake out my limbs experimentally, trying to rid them of the fatigue that had been building since entering these forests. Sweat soaked through my clothes and I briefly entertained the the thought of abandoning my shirt, despite the cold, but disregard the thought.

"It's too quite," Jane whispered, she flicked the safety off her pistol.

It's only then that I notice how silent the forest is around us. None of the background noise that had accompanied our trek was present. The bugs had fallen still, the frogs of the creeks had long since stopped croaking and any other native wildlife was not making a sound. Even the faint rustle of the wind seemed muted.

My mind instantly flashed with fear as I thought of a fierce predator working it's way to our location. Idiot! I hadn't even considered the thought of their being creatures in this forest that could rip us limb from limb. What was this planet's equivalent to a grizzly bear?

Trying to fight off my agitation, I check the omni-tool, Mrs. Shepard's dot glowed brightly on the compass. It was so close, we must be right on top of her. As soon as we found her we could get out of this damned forest.

Then the dot winked out of existence.

I blinked.

"Uh, Jane..." I tried to close the program and run it again, but the result didn't change; nothing. Mrs. Shepard was gone.

"Her omni-tool must have been deactivated," she grit out, apparently having seen the compass. That can't be good. Not good at all. I ready my rifle.

Jane's fist flared with blue energy while her pistol dangled loosely from her other hand. My rifle suddenly felt horribly inadequate.

Goddamn she looked menacing. Wish I had some of that biotic stuff. Who wouldn't want space magic? My little brothers would be freaking out. They loved the biotics in Mass Effect.

I cringe at the thought of their bright identical faces, but then stomp out the memory and the feelings that rose with it. Now was not the time.

Everything is completely motionless around us. Even the slight breeze has stilled. My eyes try to catch anything moving between the dense trees but it was too dark and the light from the night sky was almost completely blocked out by the foliage overhead. Fear-fueled adrenaline courses through my veins, making my already distressed muscles tighten in anticipation.

A sound breaks through the quiet, nearly making me jump out of my own skin. It's the sound of obnoxiously loud, guttural, voices. They're coming from directly ahead of us and the faint orange glows of omni-tools can be seen through the trees.

A blue blur rockets forward, leaving the smell of ozone hanging in the air at my side while my brain tried desperately to comprehend what just happened. Did Jane Shepard just perform a biotic charge?

Son of a bitch! We could have planned an ambush or something! Plus we didn't know how many there were!

Dammit! Why am I running towards the danger! Again! This better not be the start of a trend.

I sprint towards where the blur had shot off to... immediately coming face to face with an extremely confused batarian. He blinks, looking me straight in the eye and then brings his gun up.

Without wasting any time, I slam the butt of my rifle right between his four eyes with all my strength before he can fire off a shot. "Fucking hell!"

Regrettably, the element of surprise only lasts long enough for the batarian I just knocked out to fall to the ground. Bullets start to ping off my barrier almost immediately after that.

I weave sporadically around trees, relying more on luck than skill in the near total darkness. The sound of gunfire and the flash from muzzles spur me faster in my evasion technique's. And where the hell did Jane go?!

A couple more shots cause my barrier to flicker and die, forcing me to take cover behind a tree.

Dammit, this is ridiculous. I lean further away from the gunfire as high powered projectiles cause the bark around my head to splinter and explode, sending pieces of wood everywhere and me to flinch as a few slivers cut into my cheek and neck.

I bring up the omni-tool. Come on, where was that Overload? For fuck sake! I just saw it! What did it look like again?!

I sprint towards better cover, shooting as I run from the clusterfuck of batarians that are basically standing around in a packed group shooting anything that cast a shadow.

The only thought that really permeates my mind is, Crap crap crap crap crap!

It's almost too much too handle. The terror fueled adrenaline. The crack of discharging rifles. Everything felt like it was flying by me, and I just could never react fast enough. The bullets flashed by like some messed up light show.

I wanted to just curl up into a ball and wait for it all to go away, but if I stop moving now, I'd never be able to get moving again.

Where the hell was Jane? Hadn't she ever heard about safety in numbers? She better not have gotten herself killed.

I duck behind another tree as the cackle of biotic energy being released rings around the battlefield and the frantic screams of a batarian pierce the air to join with the gunfire.

Oh, fantastic. She's still alive. I was worried for a second there.

I lean out and fire on the group, catching one with his shields down after Shepard's attack. A couple of my shots go wide, but I'm lucky enough for one to catch him right above his collar bone. He stumbled before falling to the ground, chocking on blood.

A glimpse of bright red hair catches my eye. Was that Jane? In the next second it's gone.

Damn, she's good.

I sprint to another tree, firing at the group while I do so. Not really caring if I actually hit any of them. My eyes were to busy scanning the forest. There was no sign of Mrs. Shepard or Jane's brother anywhere.

A bullet punches through the tree trunk, right beside my head and helpfully reminding me that I'm still getting shot at.

It isn't really a firefight. A firefight would imply that there were two parties that had equal chance of winning. That is not at all the case. Jane is the only one doing any real damage to the batarians, I was just running around in panic like a chicken with it's head cut off, trying not to get shot and firing randomly.

I turn my attention back to my omni-tool and shift through the different screens. Come on... Where is-

There!

A glowing sphere forms into existence

Now I just had to launch it.

...

How was I supposed to launch this?!

I thrust my arm forward and the sphere shot forward and hit a nearby tree in a shower of sparks. Also resulting in bullets now being aimed at said tree. I blinked. Well, that answers that question.

Thank god that wasn't an incinerate. Would have caught the whole damn forest on fire.

My feet push off the rough bark, and I rush towards the next spot of cover and wait there for the opportune moment.

Once there was a lull in the crack of rifles, I rolled out from behind the tree, praying to every deity I could think of that this worked.

My fist punches forward, sending the glowing blue sphere of energy forward with arcs of electricity tailing behind it, lighting up the forest in an almost blinding display of electricty. It collided with a batarian in a static like flash, dropping his shields and allowing me to simply point and shoot. Once again, most of my bullets are off the mark, but just enough pierce through his armor. He was dead in seconds.

I rushed back behind the tree when the shots from the remaining batarians causes my barrier to flicker out. I leaned my head back against the rough bark.

How many is that now? Four? Four people who's blood was now on my hands? I slide down the trunk of the tree. Trying to catch my breath. Four people that would still be alive right now if it wasn't for me. I didn't even know them. They could have had friends and families waiting for them back home.

Peeking around my cover, careful to keep my head as far away from the flying projectiles as possible, I watch the remaining batarians. I think there's only three left. Maybe we can bluff our way out of this. No more death. That'd be nice. Through the muzzle flashes, I see one of the batarians heave something onto his shoulder and point it in my direction. Is that a...?

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

I scramble to my feet and start sprinting as fast as my weary legs can carry me. Soon I hear the tell tale sound of something whistling towards the tree I was previously behind.

Everything happened so fast after that. The blast, loud and deafening. The fire and charred splinters of wood that is sent spinning into a whirlwind of destruction burns when my shield flicker and dies. I feel a brief flash of searing pain smolder at my left side before being sent toppling forward through the air.

A cluster of shrubbery rapidly fills my spinning vision and I instinctively cover my head as I'm sent careening into the bushes, rolling and snapping the thin twigs and crushing the sparse leaves that do little to cushion my fall. My out of control form manages to hit the side of a tree with a loud crack, bringing my tumble to an abrupt and agonizing stop.

The world faded away.

* * *

**AN: Damn guys, I wasn't expecting anyone to even give this fic a second glance. Especially since it's my first. You're all awesome. This chapter was a bit longer than I intended it to be, but oh well. Any feedback you have is more than welcome.**


	3. Chapter 3

Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength. -Unknown

* * *

I blink tiredly at the night sky as it shone through the dense foliage of the trees.

The creaking of branches and a peculiar cackling echoed dully through my mind as an odd warmth spread across my torso. The leaves overhead are illuminated by an warm glow as were the rest of my surroundings. You would think that the newfound light would make things easier to see, but for some reason, the world kept shifting in and out of focus.

Darkness was creeping at the edge of my vision and maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just closed my eyes for a few seconds.

I blink a couple of times when a dark shape blocks out the stars. When did it get here?

The figure seems to pull something from his hip and point it at me. Four eyes gleam with rage as they look down on me with contempt. A loud guttural noise is coming from him. He's yelling at me? Is that it? What'd I do to piss him off?

Why do I keep pissing people off? Needed to work on my social skills.

Somewhere in the far corners of my mind, a voice whispered feverishly for me to move. To stop the four-eyed assailant from shooting me. To survive.

But why bother? The ground was soft and I was exhausted. Moving seemed like a strenuous endeavor. Whatever this guy was pissed about, it could wait.

This was all some crazy dream, anyways. No one in real life had four eyes.

A flash of azure in my peripheral vision catches my attention before the strain to keep my eyes open became too much.

Just for a few seconds...

There's a shattering crack, like a branch breaking, accompanied soon after by a dull thud.

The distinct smell of ozone fills my senses. It seemed familiar...

"Get up!"

My eyelids jerk open. Who was shouting at me now? Couldn't they just let me sleep? I've had a pretty rough day.

Suddenly, something red and hazy is blocking my view of the sky. I would have tried to rub my eyes to clear my vision, but that seemed like too much work.

"Oh no you don't. Stay alive, boy scout, okay? Concentrate on breathing!"

Stay alive? All I was going to do was sleep for a bit. Why would anyone assume I was dying? That didn't sound like something I would do.

Something pressed against my side and the strange warmth ebbed away to leave only discomfort and a strange pressure. I didn't like the feeling,

"Stop." Or at least that's what I attempted to say. What actually came out of my mouth was an incoherent grunt. What was wrong with my tongue? I must be tired.

I looked down at where the discomfort was originating from only to see a lot of red bleeding together. Shaking my head furiously to clear my vision, but to little avail. Oh wait. I think I lost my glasses. Where did those things go now?

Maybe I'll find them after a short nap.

"Hey, stay awake." The red haze demanded urgently in a familiar voice. Where had I heard it before? "Just concentrate, okay?"

Stay awake. Stay alive. Concentrate. Work harder. Take care of your siblings. Never come back. Whoever it was, she sounded like my father. I think I've followed enough orders for one life time. Or two in my case. Heh, that was a good joke. Where have I heard that before? Maybe that red haze knows. I'll ask it.

I crane my head, but this time I see- really see- what's going on and my mind snapped back into focus. The memories from the past few hours come rushing back in a wave.

My side looks like it's just recently caught fire and then was put through a shredder. Blood soaked through the charred remains of my shirt, and the skin that hadn't been cut to pieces by shrapnel was red and blistering. The sight made me turn away almost instantly as my stomach tugged and I felt the blood drain from my face.

Oh, man. That was my blood. That was a lot of my blood.

Jane was pressing against the wound with my already torn to shreds bomber jacket.

And that warm glowing light? The forest was on fire. ON FIRE.

"Oh," This time I manage to find my voice, "Shit."

"Yeah," Shepard barks sarcastically, "Shit."

Alright, calm down, Carter. You've taken basic first aid classes. You can deal with this.

_Who am I kidding? That was like a five hour course! And shrapnel wounds definitely did not come up in those lectures!_

I take a deep breath, (or as deep a breath as I can. My ribs ached at the slightest movement) and try to push the panic away. Asses the wound. Then go from there.

Those definitely looked like burns. Could have been worse. Second, maybe third degree burns. They wouldn't be an issue. It was the shrapnel wounds that worried me. They're bleeding pretty badly. We needed something to stop the bleeding and that jacket wasn't working.

I lay my head back on the ground, wracking my brain for a way to get out of this. Only to come up blank. I can't think of anything. No miracle plan. No hair brained scheme or omni-tool application. No nerdy skill could get me out of this.

Nothing. Nada. Not a single idea.

In my professional medical opinion; I am throughly fucked.

What a joke. All I did so far was possibly screw the galaxy out of it's savior. That's one for the record books. I can see the headlines now 'College Kid Fucks Over Universe then Dies From Blood Loss: Galactic Apocalypse Imminent.'

I wonder if Jane even realizes how stupid I am. Likely, though she was a bit busy at the moment trying to keep me from bleeding out all over the forest floor.

"Your mother and brother?" I cough out.

"I don't know," Jane seethed out between her teeth as she took a moment to wipe her forehead of sweat. Upon closer inspection, I notice the black and blue bruises already forming over her face contrasting with the thin sheen of sweat that covers her skin. Those biotic skills obviously don't come without a price. There's also a large, nasty cut across her cheek, the dark red blood leaking from the injury was the same color as her hair. She's probably dead on her feet, "I didn't see them and then there was that explosion..." Jane pressed at the wound a bit rougher than necessary, causing me to flinch and her to ease off a little.

"Batarians," She hissed the word like spitting venom and glared at the alien who was currently knocked out cold and laying a few feet away from us, "Setting the whole forest on fire. What were they thinking launching a rocket into a tree?"

"Obviously they didn't have you're superior leadership." Jane sends me a withering glare.

"I don't think I can move you," She finally mutters, more to herself, "You're bleeding a lot. Any step you take may only make it worse and I could never support your entire weight. No offense."

"None taken." For some reason, the thought of dying didn't induce nearly as much panic as I thought it would. Maybe it just becomes easier after accepting the inevitable. It is a bit vindicating. I wasn't supposed to be here anyways. I'm an anomaly. Some kind of cosmic screw up.

"I've double checked the bastard over there for medi-gel, but it looks like he wasn't carrying any." Jane continues the conversation. I think she was just looking for something to keep her mind off this whole screwed up situation. Hell, I appreciated the distraction too.

I close my eyes as the roar of the fire gets a little louder. Soon we'll be engulfed in it. This is stupid. There's no point in both of us dying. Maybe I could still give the galaxy it's hero. "Well, thats a shame. You should probably get going. That fire seems to be spreading."

"Not a chance, boy scout." Jane snarled almost immediately. "I didn't stop that batarian from shooting you just so you could stay here and burn!"

My eyes shoot open in surprise and I crane my neck to look at her, "You don't owe me anything. Hell, you barely know me. Don't be stubborn, short-fuse. Save yourself."

"Don't call me short, dumbass!" Shepard snapped, though it was lacking the usual bite, "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because I want to."

"What? You want to die?" I ask tiredly. Why'd she have to be so difficult?

We lapse into silence and for a few seconds, the soft pressure against my side is the only sign that Jane is still there. I fidget, thinking that she just decided to ignore me. We didn't have time for this. Or rather, she didn't have time. She needed to get out of here. I'm a lost cause. I'm about to tell her as much when she interrupts my train of thought.

Her voice is so quite, I almost don't hear it.

"No."

No?

No. She doesn't want to die.

And I really don't want to either.

It's strange how a two letter word could inspire so much conviction, because suddenly my mind is racing at break neck speeds trying to think of some way out of this. A solution slowly dawns on me. I don't like. Scratch that. I loathe it. But it's the only plan I can think of. Sometimes, I have the worst ideas.

I take the pocket knife from my jacket, wincing as my ribs ached, and fumble to pull out the largest blade. I then point towards the source of the now raging forest fire, "Think you have enough left in you to heat this in those smoldering embers over there with your biotics?" I ask with urgency. There's no time to waste. If we were going to get out of this we had to work quickly. Before we were burned alive.

Jane looks at me in confusion, "What happened to just rolling over and dying?" she asked, nevertheless levitating the knife and then turning towards the fire and sending the blade to plunge into the hottest embers.

"Are you kidding?" I cough out, "Look at this face. I'm way to pretty to die." I almost feel her eyes roll.

"What do want me to do with it?" she asks calling the blade back to her. It seemed to glow with unholy light. But that might just be the loss of blood making me delirious.

"Alright," Now came the fun part. I tear a sizable piece of bark off the tree that stopped my tumble, "We have to cauterize the wound. Run the flat of the blade along the injury until it closes shut." I state, proud that I kept my voice from cracking that entire time.

"What?!" Shepard exclaims in shock that quickly morphs into anger, "How's more fire supposed to make this better?!"

"We don't really have many options, now do we? It's either this or you leave me here." I quip back, both scared at the idea of what we were about to do and of the prospect of passing out during the process and ruining the entire plan. She seems to debate it for a second, before steeling her features.

I lay back down and roll, carefully, to give Jane better access to my injury, "Don't worry about messing up. Tis but a scratch."

She nods grimly, the reference along with my attempt to lighten the mood, flying completely over her head. I put the bark between my teeth and try to calm my erratic heartbeat.

Alright, Matt, just calm down. Just picture it as hot water. Nice soothing warm water. Just warm water. Just warm-

HOT BURING FLAMES AGONY HELLFIRE SWELTERING SCARRING SCALDING HEAT BURNING TORTURE

Just as quick as the pain came, it was over. Leaving a bone chilling numbness to wash over my side.

I spit out the pieces of bark that broke apart in my mouth. My throat felt raw from a choked down scream and I blink rapidly in an attempt to clear my cloudy vision.

"Oh man," A dull throb resonated from my side, and I looked down to see that my torso was now a mess of scarred tissue and drying blood. At least it wasn't bleeding anymore. "That was not fun. Not fun at all." How does Rambo make stuff like this look easy? That was the worst experience ever.

"Can you stand?" Jane asked. I look up to see her imploring gaze filled with both guilt and relief.

"Don't really want to." I groan, but the smell of burning wood and the sickly scent of burnt flesh spurs me on. As I maneuver myself into a sitting position with a grunt and my side screaming in protest, the fire jumps to a tree in front of us, "But it looks like it's time to go."

"That's gonna leave a mark," Jane states darkly, her eyes flickering between mine and the newly acquired burn.

"Eh, whatever. I never looked good shirtless anyways." I give my best attempt at a grin and Jane seems to twitch her lips up just slightly to smile back.

I stand to my feet with a lot of help from Jane. Surprisingly, there wasn't nearly as much pain as I expected there to be, though that could be because of nerve damage. On the other hand, my ribs gave sent a pulse of pain resonating through my side. I really hope they weren't broken, that was the last thing I needed.

My limbs feel like jello. They rebelled at every move I tried to make and wouldn't obey me properly. The fact that the world kept spinning madly around me, didn't help matters.

I glance down briefly at my ruined leather jacket. Grandad would kill me if he saw the state it was in. Soaked in blood and torn to shreds. There was no hope for recovering it now. It just wasn't possible. I wanted to pick it up and hold onto it, but I don't think I'd be able to bend down that far without falling on my face.

It felt like I was betraying the old man by leaving what once was a perfectly good article of clothing here to burn. It didn't seem right. Like I was letting go of something more than just a jacket.

I shake my head to dispel the thoughts and keep focused. It couldn't be helped now. It was already ruined.

"What about him?" I ask, clutching my hand to my side like a bandage, and leaning heavily on the tree. I give a slight nod towards the unconscious batarian. Yeah, he tried to kill me, but burning alive wasn't exactly a pleasant death. No one deserved that. "We can't just leave him here."

Jane looks at the batarian then back at me, cold steel coming into her features, "Your right." Before I realize what's happening, she's taken the fallen pistol that the batarian had been planning to kill me with and shot him point blank.

"What the hell, Jane!?" I yell after getting over my shock. She killed him in cold blood! Just shot him like it was nothing!

"He wouldn't have hesitated to do the same to us," she states coldly. No remorse. Her features seem to soften somewhat, "He tried to do the same to you."

_Yeah, him and just about everyone I've met today._

"Renegade, then?" I mutter too low for her to hear.

No. That wasn't right. I couldn't just categorize the world in black and white. This wasn't a video game anymore.

And who was I to argue morals? I was a murderer too. I force the entire situation back into the dark corners of my mind and file it away under _Shit I'll deal with later_. It was a rapidly growing section.

Just focus on surviving the next few minutes. Everything else can wait.

I push myself away from the tree and nearly collapse back on my face. Jane slips herself under my right arm to support some of my weight before I fall. Her challenging look dares me to protest. Not that I was going to.

"Let's get going, boy scout."

"Heh. We'll limp out of here together, shorty."

* * *

The fire was picking up it's pace now, burning through the trees around us at an astounding rate. We pass one tree just as it goes up in shower of burning pine needles and smoldering branches. On more than one occasion, we had to adjust our course, when a burning branch fell into our path. The smell of burning sap and wood filled the air, making it near impossible to breath properly.

What I wouldn't give for a glass of water right now.

We aren't going very fast, (painfully slow), thanks to Jane's ankle and my uncooperative legs, but we're staying ahead of the fire, at least for now.

"How far are we from the edge of the forest?" I wheeze out, covering my mouth with my free hand so as not to inhale too much smoke.

"I used to explore this forest as a kid," she coughs mirroring my actions, "We should be close, just hold on."

Just then I hear the cracking of a tree limb overhead and use my weight to throw us both to the left. We roll a short distance away from the main part of the fire before tumbling into a nearby ditch.

I thankfully land on my uninjured side, but the impact still makes me hiss in pain. Especially when Jane lands RIGHT ON THE FREAKING BURN.

"Ah! Get off me, midget!"

Jane glares from her position beside me. "Then next time warn me before throwing your weight around like a mentally challenged bull!"

Ouch. That one stung almost as much as my messed up side.

Just then the guttural sound of batarians conversing reaches our ears.

Oh you have got to be freaking kidding me!

I reach for my rifle, only to realize it's not there anymore. It was lost somewhere in that explosion.

Jane growls and instantly flares her biotics. A weak azure glow surrounded her, but quickly faded. She suddenly looked much paler.

Neither Jane nor I were in any condition to go another round with those bastards, even if we had thinned their numbers.

"Don't move!" Jane whispers harshly seemingly realizing this as well.

I respond by clamping my hand over her mouth.

The two voices slowly made their way over to our ditch. There was an odd dragging noise that accompanied their movements, but I didn't dare peek over the ditch to see what it might have been.

The voices settled right near our hiding place.

Of course. Perfect. Just fantastic. Of all the places to stop.

Today is really not my day.

Those next few seconds were the most intense moments of my life. If they found us we were as good as dead. I tried to keep as quite as humanly possible but my heart thumped traitorously in my ears. How could they not hear the sound? It was like a canon with each beat.

The two guttural voices hovered around the ditch and I was sure they were almost right on top of us. They were arguing, I think. It was hard to tell, when you couldn't understand a word they were saying. Really, they could have been discussing the weather for all I knew. Though, that did seem unlikely.

A plethora of other voices join with the two. An entire group seemed to stomp their way through the trees around us.

Holy shit! There's more?! How many are in this forest!?

The crunch of their feet upon the foliage caused me to stop breathing altogether.

They were right there! Jane and I could clearly see the backs of two of them from our hiding place. I didn't need my glasses to discern each and every protrusion in their armor as the group seemingly argued about something. They were too close. All the batarians had to do was turn around and look down into the ditch and that would be it.

_For the love of all that is holy, don't turn around! Please don't notice us. These are not the droids you are looking for. Please. Keep. Moving!_

The the batarians seemed to reach an agreement. Apparently deciding it was better to get away from the fire than continue talking about the weather. Or whatever it was they were arguing about. The two that we could see slung their rifles across their backs and turned to the side.

They reached down for something on the ground and I caught sight of two humans with slave collars around their necks as they were being dragged away.

One was a young boy who couldn't be more than ten and the other was a woman who's crimson hair mixed with blood that was leaking from a nasty gash on her forehead. The woman was obviously unconscious, but the boy was whimpering slightly.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who they were.

Jane tensed next to me and I quickly wrap my other arm around her waist while the other remained firmly around her mouth. She kicked out and bit my hand, clawing at the dirt to try and get out of the ditch. It took every ounce of my own will power not let her go.

"Jane, listen!" I whisper harshly as a particularly brutal elbow catches my bad side and I nearly let go as a flash of white hot pain causes my vision to darken momentarily. I had to release my hold on her mouth and wrap both arms around her waist, "We're outnumbered, we're tired, and we're outgunned. If it were just the two, we might- **MIGHT-** have had a chance. But you heard as well as I did. There had to be at least seven of them. We'd get slaughtered."

"Coward!" Jane hissed in righteous fury, "I'll tear them apart. I don't care how many there are, they'll all pay!"

She had every right to be angry. But I couldn't let her do this.

Man, I hate being the bad guy.

"Dammit, Jane! Getting yourself killed won't solve anything!" I snap out again as she breaks free of my hold and tries to claw her way out of the ditch, "We can't save them!"

My words are driven home when Jane's bad ankle gives under her weight just after hoisting herself up. She lands on the ground, hard. Jane struggles back onto her feet and tries to run forward again, only for her leg to give out a second time.

Ignoring the aching pain in my side, I claw my own way up and kneel down beside her to make sure she's alright. Her hand curls into a fist and she slams it into the ground. This repeats a number of times and it takes me a second to recognize the soft noise over the roar of the fire as the sounds of crying.

Ah crap. Emotions. I was never good with those.

"Dammit!" Jane cursed violently, lifting her face from the dirt. Tears smeared with the blood and grime on her face as a snarl painted itself across her features, "Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit!" Each word is punctuated with her fist slamming against the ground. She doesn't stop until her knuckles are raw and bleeding.

I don't know what to do. What can I do? Without thinking, I wrap what I hope is a soothing arm around her shoulders. I don't bother telling her it was going to be alright, because really it wasn't.

I wish my emotional capacity extended beyond that of a brick wall.

After a few more moments, I can't stand to hear her crying any longer. It was just too gut wrenching. She was just a teenager! Sixteen at the most. No teenager should have to deal with all this!

I pull her up from the ground and wrap her in an hug. She instinctively wrapped her arms tightly and forcefully around my neck and continued cursing into my shoulder.

What a day.

"It's gonna get better, I promise. Tomorrow will be better."

The soft sobbing and cursing began to slowly quite down. I felt her head turn away from my shoulder to look around us. The fire had quickly spread to the surrounding trees. We'd have to leave soon, and I bet she was thinking the same thing.

"Let's go," her voice was muffled by my shirt and it sounded tired and weary. I simply nod in agreement, inwardly relieved to be through with the emotional roller coaster.

She pulled away from my arms, and I let them drop back to my side. She hauled herself up, not saying another word. Her features blank and never betraying the turmoil she must be feeling even as the tear treks cut through the dirt and blood on her face.

In that moment, it wasn't hard to believe that one day she would grow up to save the galaxy.

I struggled to my feet to stand beside her and we were soon leaning together for support.

Another tree beside us went up in a shower of embers.

An unspoken urgency now fueled our movements. We needed to put this forest behind us.

* * *

The smoke was starting to get suffocating and I started sweating from the heat. We've been moving for what felt like hours. Though I couldn't really tell. It was hard to focus on anything for too long. My lungs kept struggling ineffectively for oxygen and it was getting harder and harder to suck in air. I swear, if I suffer a asthma attack here I'm gonna...

Jane kept faltering and gasping every so often beside me, so she must have been having similar problems.

With every impact of my feet, my vision would swim in and out of focus. For some reason, my body felt a lot heavier than it should have. It could be exhaustion or it could be blood loss. Maybe a bit of both. Hard to tell.

_C'mon, ya idgit. You've already made it this far. Don't quit now. _

The fire now completely surrounded us on either side. The heat and smoke were almost unbearable, but we kept moving.

"Almost there, boy scout." Jane coughs out as we struggle forward. "Just a little farther."

"Just a little farther." I rasp back as my eyes water from the smoke.

A violent cough erupted from my throat and I had to turn my head to the side as a metallic taste washed over my tongue. My hand reaches up to cover the violent hacking. It comes away bloody. I quickly wipe it away on my charred shirt before Jane could see. We had enough problems as it was.

Shit. I really hope I just accidentally bit the inside of my mouth and it wasn't internal bleeding. Was there such a thing as healthy cough-blood? Probably not.

We rushed, no longer caring about the strain we put on ourselves. The fire licked at our backs, but gradually the amount of trees around us slowly began to lessen until, finally, the forest ended and the stars and moons shone and illuminated the rolling hills of grass around us. A cold breeze hit my face instantly cooling me. Jane shivered under my arm and I instinctively bring her in closer. It was freezing outside of the fires. We continue until we are a safe distance from the forest before slowing to a stop.

"Well, that was tedious." I pant out, collapsing on my back in the short, green grass. Wincing as my wound throbbed in protest at the sudden move. The world blurred and darkened before coming back into clarity. Jane crashes down beside me, running a blood stained hand through sweaty hair.

"'Tedious'?" She mutters under her breath, "We just went through hell and he calls it 'tedious'."

I use my elbows to prop myself up, staring at the fires as they quickly consume the forest in front of us before looking back over at Jane. I still can't believe any of this. It's like a bad dream and any minute I'll wake up in my bed ready to go to classes.

But I'm alive. I know I am. I'm drenched in sweat, covered in soot, caked in dried blood, and still reeling in pain and exhaustion, but I'm alive.

I'm alive.

The thought places a grin on my face and a small chuckle escapes me. Before I realize it, I'm laughing like a mad man. After a few seconds, I hear Shepard's own weary chuckle join mine.

I can't explain it. The euphoric feeling of just breathing in clean air. It's unbelievable. I still have no idea of how we'll be rescued, but at least for now, we're safe.

The cool grass under us is as soft as a cushion, kind of like my bed. My asthmatic lungs take in the frigid air, though they wheeze exhaustedly after that fit of laughter.

Now could we rest? I could just pass out for a few seconds, right?

"Okay." Jane breathes out, "Let's keep moving."

_Guess not._

I glance back at her in surprise and see the look of exhaustion on her face. Doesn't she ever rest? She'd be lucky to get a couple of yards forward before collapsing. I don't think I would even make it one step.

But there was determination in her eyes. The same 'cold as ice' look she got right before she burned my wound closed and shot that batarian.

There wasn't a chance in hell I was getting rest anytime soon. I take one more moment to admire the rapidly lightening sky. It was now a pleasant shade of azure and the stars were just starting to dim. Had the night really passed that fast? Didn't even get to properly enjoy it. Then again, it was about time the sun rose.

I nod and groan, pushing myself unsteadily to my feet. Ignoring my screaming muscles and aching side, my hand reaches down and she takes it. We, once more, stumble together until we're supporting each other's weight. And so begins our long, and treacherous trek up the hill at an agonizingly slow pace.

Today has certainly been... disastrous? Yes, that was a good word for it.

"Just a little farther." I repeat Jane's mantra from earlier midway through our long stumbling climb.

She looks at me from the corner of her eye and nods, "Just a little farther."

As soon as we make it past the crest of the hill, Jane and I are greeted by a sight that causes my knees to fall weak and would have brought tears of joy to my eyes if I wasn't so dehydrated.

The sun is just rising and the early morning dawn light silhouettes a shuttle. An honest to god Alliance shuttle, looking every bit like it had just been plucked from the game and assembled in real life. It took me a moment to recognize the people milling around the shuttle as soldiers though that was because of me now needing a new pair of glasses.

"Would you look at that," I choke out with a grin, "That's got to be the best sunrise I've ever seen, hands down."

Jane nods mutely in agreement, though it's a bit hesitant. Was she thinking about her family and friends? If I ask, the answer would probably be 'no'.

"We'll find them. I don't know how, but we'll find them." The promise breaks free from my treasonous mouth. Idiot. I should know better than to make promises I can't keep.

Still.

As naive as it is, maybe it's a promise I'll be able to keep. Somehow.

Her eyes snap to meet mine with an unreadable look, but I can tell that there's a hint of gratitude hidden somewhere in her stare. And maybe just a dull flicker of hope.

Jane turns back towards the shuttle and nods with a bit more confidence. Her constant scowl seems to lessen somewhat and I rejoice at the small victory.

"Quit trying to be sentimental, boy scout." She says, readjusting her grip on me, "You hug like a block of wood, by the way."

"I'll have you know that I am the best hugger in my entire family." I respond with indignation as we continue our trek.

We practically trip our way down the rest of the hill.

I never make it. The world was too busy falling away.

A series of painful coughs rack through my chest, and the coppery taste of blood trickles through my lips. I think I see Jane glancing at me in worry, but we were already going as fast as we could. And my vision was getting patchy.

Around halfway down, my legs tangle together and I lose my balance. I had enough sense to let go of Jane so she doesn't end up falling with me.

A muffled shout of surprise pierced through my rapidly fading vision, but I couldn't really pay attention to it even if I wanted to. Instead, I gratefully accepted the embrace of oblivion.

Maybe when I awaken, this will have all been a messed up dream.

* * *

**AN: Wasn't sure how I felt about this chapter. What do you guys think?**


	4. Chapter 4

Home is where the heart is. - unknown

* * *

The dull hum wakes me up. It's not that loud. You would barely notice the noise if you weren't focusing on it. I had been able to ignore it for quite some time, but now it was getting annoying. Borderline maddening. Yet sleep still held me firm in it's grasp.

It's strange, I've never heard that humming in my apartment before. Other noises, yes, but never humming. Where was the neighbors's music? The shouting of the constantly fighting couple above me? The creak of the old walls and floors?

Where was I?

The flash of a muzzle and the memory of a batarian's head exploding as I depress the trigger.

My eyes shoot open and I try to sit up.

Which turns out to be a horrible idea. My entire body collapses back into the bed, screaming bloody murder.

_Hell in a hand basket!_

Everything hurt. My bones hurt. My sides hurt. My lungs hurt. Every inch of skin felt busted and bruised.

I sit up again, a bit more tentatively this time, to see a series of tubes and wires protruding from underneath bandages around my wrist and arm. I also noticed that someone had taken the liberty of relieving me of my clothes and switched them out for a pale blue hospital gown. It felt like there was an odd gel like substance coating my torso.

The room was completely dark except for a few machines that beeped methodically and lit up with dull flashing lights. The humming seemed to be coming from the walls around us. Air Vents maybe? A heating system? It's only when my blurry eyesight locks onto the window across from me that I slump back further into my pillow, trying to melt into the soft fabric.

Outside was a plethora of stars too bright and numerous to originate from Earth's night sky.

It was real. All of it.

Funny, I don't really know what I was expecting.

This is the moment I should probably start having some serious concerns about my future.

This whole situation was absolutely ludicrous. People don't just get sucked into video games. Stuff like that was confined strictly to the realm of fiction. How could this have happened? Why?

I needed... time... to figure this all out. To wrap my head around the idea that I may be stuck here for a good long while. To find out if this was canon Mass Effect or not.

Never thought I would have to do research on the entire galaxy before.

And Reapers! Shit, this whole galaxy is a ticking time bomb of death and destruction.

The flash of a muzzle and the crack of a pistol rams through my mind like a freight train again, reminding me that I wasn't exactly innocent of that death and destruction.

I run a hand across my face. I'm fucked six ways to Sunday, aren't I?

Alright, it's fine. Just take it all one step at a time. Let's assume, that for the time being, there's no way back home. What should I do?

_Find the darkest corner, crawl into a fetal position, and hope for the best?_

Dammit, no. Stop thinking like that. You can't just hide and pretend that everything will turn out alright.

_Why not? Shepard will save the galaxy eventually. All you would have to do is sit back and watch the fireworks. It would be so easy..._

I dispel the thoughts with a grimace. No. I may not be a biotic like Jane, but I won't be nothing. I refuse to be useless. There had to be something I could do to help. If this is canon, then this galaxy is about to be hit hard. By Saren, Collectors, and the Reapers. I knew everything that was going to happen. It had to be... 2170? That was plenty of time. I could help in the coming war and make sure the galaxy was more prepared. I had a **responsibility** to help.

The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded. My knowledge of the games may not be perfect, but I remember enough to make a difference.

I could do this. I can save lives. Maybe enlist with Jane-

_You? A soldier!? Ha! You barely survived one firefight! And that's only 'cause Jane hauled your stupid ass out of the fire. _

Fuck off. I'm awesome. And if boxing taught me anything, it was how to take a hit and get right back up. This is no different. As soon as I got out of this hospital bed...

What if I only make things worse?

"Doctors said you weren't supposed to wake up until tomorrow."

The voice makes me start from my inner reprieve. My head whips around so fast to the left, I nearly give myself whiplash.

There, sitting in a hospital bed I had previously assumed unoccupied, was the shape of a person. The sparse light of the machines and stars illuminated just enough crimson hair to distinguish that the girl talking to me was Jane Shepard.

If I didn't feel like death warmed over I would have responded with some sarcastic joke. Right now, I was lucky I was able to turn and face her without feeling lightheaded. I'd have to save all my witty one liners for when I could breath properly.

"Why does my face hurt?" I have no idea why that was the first question that came out of my mouth. You would think I would have asked where we were or how we had gotten here, but no. Sometime, my lack of complexity surprised even me.

A tired chuckle echoed from Jane's direction, "Well, you did use it to slide down most of the hill so that would probably explain the pain. Got yourself a nice gravel burn."

"Am I still handsome?" I ask with a weak grin because even if it was real, we're still alive. Both of us. We made it out of that death trap of a colony and I didn't screw up anything in the process. Probably.

"I wouldn't look at a mirror any time soon, if I were you."

"How 'bout you? Any cool scars?" I ask.

"Only one on my cheek," Jane shifts in her bed, and I get the feeling she's facing me now, "Can I ask you a favor?"

I shrug, flinching as volts of pain are sent tap dancing along my spine. I wait for her response only to realize she probably can't see me, "Okay."

"Don't tell the doctors I'm a biotic."

My brow furrows as I try to think of a reason for her not wanting me to tell the doctors. Some biotics had to deal with prejudice, right? Wasn't there an entire mission in the first game centered around a biotic terrorist group that were pissed about their treatment? And Jane was afraid of that? Was it really that bad? "Why? Would they treat you different or something? Cause you shouldn't have to put up with that shit and we can tell them where they can stick their prejudiced-"

"What? No!" Jane interjects quickly, almost sounding surprised, "No... maybe. I don't know. It's just... My mom and dad always taught me to hide my biotic abilities, even from the other farm kids. They trained me themselves, with the help of some friend of theirs in the military. Well, more my mom. They just didn't want me having to deal with some of the bullshit the rest of the biotics at those Alliance training camps had to deal with, you know."

It took a moment for that to set in. "Wait, so you don't have an implant?"

"No," Jane shifted uncomfortably, "But I'm not some ticking time bomb or anything. That's not... how... it..." she trails off as I burst into laughter that quickly turns into dry coughs.

Ow, not a good idea. Avoid laughing for at least a week.

"Sorry," I wheeze, rubbing at the pain in my chest, "But you took down an entire squad of batarians and didn't even have an implant! You're like a freaking superhero! That's awesome!"

"You... must of hit your head harder than I thought." Jane mutters sheepishly at the compliment even as her posture relaxed.

"Tell me about it." I wave off, regaining my breath, "You won't have to worry about me saying anything to any doctors."

Jane seems to visibly lighten and I wonder if she really was expecting me to say anything different. That was just wrong. Teenagers shouldn't have to put up with a bunch of prejudiced, narrow minded idiots.

"Thanks, boy scout."

"Don't mention it, shorty."

We settle into an easy silence, giving me ample time to hash out my next actions.

What to do now.

Suddenly, I remember the omni-tool still wrapped around my wrist. "Oh hey, almost forgot." I take off the elastic metal and toss it onto Jane's bed, "Your father left a message on the omni-tool for his family. I think he wanted you to see it."

Jane doesn't say a word, instead she picks it up and tosses it back, "It's probably for mom or Tommy. They'll see it when I rescue them."

That causes another stab of guilt to twist in my stomach, "All the same, I'm sure your father would have wanted you to-"

"No, he really wouldn't of." Jane interrupts. Her tone leaving little room for further discussion.

A tense silence stretches between us. I can't help but stare for a couple seconds, a notion of the source of her sudden anger slowly dawning. So that's how it was, huh?

"Uh... you may not want it right this second, but trust me on this; you're gonna want to know what he had to say. Maybe not now, but someday- "

A sarcastic snort sounds from Jane's direction.

"Someday, you're gonna want to hear what he had to say 'cause he's family and family is weird like that," I toss the omni-tool back onto her bed. "Listen, I know how it is, my dad wasn't exactly winning best role model of the year either. Just... keep it, okay?" I trail off, not really knowing what else to say. I can't handle this much talking and teenage angst. It just wasn't me.

Jane doesn't respond, but she doesn't toss the omni-tool back either. Score one for the time traveler.

A huge yawn breaks through my defenses.

Anymore thoughts of the impending apocalypse, nightmares, emotions, fathers and everything else could wait a couple more hours. All that talking left me exhausted.

"Getting pretty tired. You should try to catch some sleep too."

I think I saw her shake her head, "No, not yet. Maybe later."

"Suit yourself," I yawn again.

"You remember your promise?" Jane asks and I think I hear a hint of anxiety in her voice.

"As if I'd forget. Quit worrying. Sleep. It's good for you."

I don't know what her response was, I nod off before she could say anything.

* * *

Turns out, sleeping was nigh impossible. The crack of a gun kept intruding in my dreams. If Jane noticed my fitful sleeping habits, she never said anything, or maybe she was dealing with them herself. I found myself hoping it was the former.

The subtle, but constant hum of the large mass effect engines of the cruiser was not helping my insomnia. I learned later that the patrol that picked up Jane and I, had reunited with a much larger ship. The SSV Einstein.

The next morning, (or whenever it was that the lights turned on in a ship's medbay) was filled with a lot of prodding and probing by doctors. None of which was appreciated.

After a brief examination, the head doctor stated that Jane had merely suffered from a some 1st degree burns, a few cuts and bruises, and a sprained ankle. She also had to be treated for exhaustion and was confined to the medbay for the rest of the day. I kept my promise and never said anything about her being a biotic.

I wasn't as lucky as Jane. The doc said it was a modern miracle that I was even functioning. Which just made me feel tons better after my sleep deprived night.

Apparently, I suffered from a couple 1st and 2nd degree burns in a few places, but the main concern was the large splotchy 3rd degree burn that was mostly concentrated along my back and left side. A broken rib had nicked an artery in my right lung, causing some eternal bleeding and making it hard to breath. Which would explain why I was coughing blood earlier. And I also had to be treated for a minor concussion and just plain overexertion.

The head doctor scolded me like a child (which I guess in this universe I was) about how lucky I was to be alive. All I could wonder the entire time was when had I gotten the concussion?

My continued existence wasn't even the biggest shock, what really took me by surprise was that the head doctor was none other than Doctor Karin-freaking-Chakwas.

"I swear children these days," The doctor mumbles grumpily as she stabs a tetanus vaccine directly into my arm and then dabs disinfectant on my cheek, causing me to give a slight wince of pain. Hell, this lady was almost as bad a Nurse Ratched. It's not like I go around trying to get myself banged up. I never even broken a bone before in my life. You know, prior to waking up on Mindoir.

Which reminds me, I have to check out whether this is another universe or if this is the future. If it was another universe, than that would mean that everything I left behind was still going on even if I wasn't there. But if it was the future... than everyone I know was dead. And that was a thought I really didn't want to entertain for very long.

"I honestly don't know what to say to you, young man," Chakwas sighed as she typed something on the datapad in her hands, "I've never met someone with the tenacity of a cockroach before."

Was that an insult or a compliment? It sounded like an insult.

"Can't you just wrap it in bandages or something?" I plead desperately. I liked hospitals about as much as the next guy, but the constant sterile feel of the air was a bit unsettling. I always felt like I should have some kind of terminal disease whenever I visited.

"No, I can not just 'wrap it in bandages or something'." Chakwas stated crossly, her face set into uncompromising stone.

"Well, how long is this gonna take?" I ask nervously eyeing a few of the surgical tools dangling overhead. Chakwas seems to notice my weariness.

"We discovered some anomalies in our initial test results." She glances up at me with a skeptical expression, "You're nearsighted and you have asthma, is that correct?"

"Yeah...?" I answer feeling a bit vulnerable under the older woman's gaze. I really wish they gave me something other than this hospital gown. Dammit, where did they put my jeans?

She shook her head and hands danced across the datapad, "Strange, both such defects are usually caught during infancy and quickly corrected." Chakwas sighed heavily as she continues sifting through the datapad, "I'm sorry, but what were your parents thinking? Many of your health problems stem from some very simple fixes."

"We never had the money," I muttered trying too avoid her piercing gaze. It wasn't a complete lie. Most of the money Dad and I earned was used to put Annie, Danny, Sammy, and myself through school.

Still, I felt bad. Chakwas was only trying to help but it's not like I could tell her I was from the 21st century where these were just regular health problems.

"You're in luck, than. We have much of the equipment to commence with the corrective surgery right here." Chakwas stated with a flourish and a coy smile, "It may just so happen that during the operation to repair your lung, we decide it is in your best interest to permanently fix your airways. And then while treating you for your concussion, we may accidentally realign your corneas."

"Can you do that? Won't your captain be mad?" I ask, "I'm pretty sure I don't have insurance."

"Young man, this is my medbay," Chakwas stated with huff, "I decide what my patients need, not the captain."

I blink in surprise. I had never pinned Dr. Chakwas as the rebellious sort. Seeing her with a few streaks of brown in her sliver hair was surprise enough.

"Listen, thanks and all, but I-"

"Young man, let me make myself perfectly clear." She placed her hands on her hips and her noticeably younger face, set into a menacing smile that instantly set off warning bells in my head.

_Run, you poor fool! While you still have a chance! _

"You take one step away from this bunk, and so help me, I will handcuff you to the bed!"

Laughter echoed across the room and even the nurses on duty slowed to chuckle. It took me a moment to realize it was Jane laughing. The sound was so carefree and foreign, it completely threw me for a loop. A tentative smile spreads across my face. It was the first time I heard her fully laugh since we met. She should laugh more often.

"Well?"

My attention focus back on the doctor tapping her foot impatiently on the floor in front of me, and I feel the color rush from my face, "Do we understand each other?"

I give a mute nod of apprehension, too petrified to say anything else, before rounding on where the sound of laughter was coming from. "I'm glad you find enjoyment in my agony." Seriously, were people in this universe just naturally more sadistic?

Dr. Chakwas clapped her hands together, suddenly all smiles. Dear Ghandi, this woman is terrifying.

"Excellent, just sign these forms here and we can get under way."

"Already?" I ask suddenly feeling very panicked, "Don't you have to, I don't know, prepare?"

"Hey doc. Do you fix crazy? Because he may have a few screws loose." Jane called out through the curtains as Chakwas chuckled and put on some rubber gloves.

"Crazy? I think I'm the only sane person here." This was the start of another very long day, wasn't it?

* * *

"Hey, anyone in there?"

I swat tiredly at the hand that tapped at my head. I felt even worse than the first time I woke up. But breathing I found was much easier than before. It was like there was an abundance of fresh air and I couldn't get enough of it. I crack open my eyes tiredly and I notice another difference. The world is so much clearer. It's like I'm wearing my glasses, only I don't feel them on my face. I rub at my eyes, but the medbay around me remains sharp and in focus in the fluorescent lights. No contacts then. What was this?

Oh, right. The surgery. The drugs must still be running their course, if I felt this groggy. Hadn't Chakwas said something about that?

"You awake yet, kid?"

A woman in a navy blue alliance jumpsuit sat back down in a chair by my side. Who was she? Another doctor or nurse? No, not the right uniform. A crewman? Her sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, tickled something in the back of my memory, but focusing on anything for more than two seconds was a challenge.

She couldn't have been anymore than twenty-seven...

I look over to ask Jane if she knows the stranger, only to see an empty bed. She's not there. The rest of the medbay is also empty. A cold feeling that had nothing to do with the drugs, washes over me.

"Ah, you're awake, good." She stuck out her hand. "Dr. Rachel Stewart, at your service."

I blink tiredly, still trying to process the first part of her sentence.

Doctor? Rachel Stewart? No, that wasn't quite right. I would swear up and down she looked familiar.

I give my head a shake to clear my thoughts, "Uh, hey. Sorry, guess I'm not thinking straight right now. Drugs and all. Where's Doctor Chakwas? And Jane? Oh, I'm Matt Carter, by the way." Damn, my tongue felt like sand paper, and I could really go for some food right about now.

"It's no trouble," Stewart said with a small grin, "Dr. Chakwas is helping Jane settle into the temporary living quarters that the captain provided. Which is perfect timing, since it is ideal that we are alone for your psych evaluation."

I maneuver myself into sitting up. Psych evaluation? Oh dear god, she's a shrink. That's worse than a doctor.

"My childhood was just dandy and I am perfectly sane." I quickly state in an attempt to derail the conversation right then and there. Something rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was the drugs making me paranoid or maybe it had something to do with 'Rachel' looking so familiar, but this whole situation made me uneasy.

Stewart gave off a soft laugh, "Don't worry, this is just routine for trauma survivors. Ms. Shepard had the same treatment."

I call bullshit. Jane would have bitten your head if you tried to make her take a psych evaluation. I should know. I nearly lost my hand trying to give a jacket.

Man, I miss that jacket.

"You're probably hungry, huh?" Rachel grinned as she produced a tray of food seemingly out of thin air, "It's okay, Chakwas said you're cleared for solid foods from now on." she responds to my dubious look.

Well, suspicion or not, I wasn't about to turn down free food. I inhale the plate of spaghetti like a vacuum. It was the best food I've ever had.

"Now," Dr. Stewart said leaning back in her chair as I continued eating. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"I'm all ears," I respond around my water glass. This was nice. Maybe I was just being paranoid after all. Probably just an affect of the drugs. Needed to keep focused. Right after eating.

"Good. How 'bout telling me a bit about yourself?" Rachel asked.

"Not much to say really. I'm a virgo. Born and raised on Earth. I like night skies and long walks on the beach," a crooked smirk works it's way onto my face. "And I'm single."

A frown replaces the smirk, "Wait, did I say that last part all that out loud? Shit, sorry. I swear I'm usually not this much of an ass."

"Oh, you're adorable." The shrink said with a genuine grin.

Adorable? Alright, I'll take that compliment.

"Why don't we talk about you're family, if you feel up to it?"

"My family's alright. What do they have to do with my psych evaluation?"

The woman arched an eyebrow, "Weren't they on Mindoir during the attack?" I coughed violently as some food went down the wrong way, "And you might want to slow down before you choke."

I pound my chest weakly a couple times to clear my throat. She caught me off guard. Though, I did see the question coming up. Just didn't expect her to be so... blunt. Were all psychologists like that? "Uh, no. Like I said I grew up on Earth. They're still there, to the best of my knowledge." Technically true.

"So then how did you wind up on some backwater colony like Mindoir?" Familiar warning bells started ringing louder in my mind and that feeling that something was off became much stronger.

The question causes me to pause and chew my food a bit more slowly. C'mon brain, think! I'm better than this dammit! Something's... off. I just need to figure out what.

"Stupid grogginess..."

"What was that?"

"Left the family and hitched a ride." Again not a complete lie. I did leave home when I was eighteen.

"To Mindoir?" Her icy gaze bored holes into me, as the unsettling feeling of knowing her from someplace continued to gnaw at me.

Then I remembered where I had last seen her.

Dr. Phil, she was not.

"I never said I was a vacation planner." I lean, back in my pillow, "But then again, you're not a psychiatrist, are you?" 'Rachel' tensed in her seat.

I had to be careful from here on out. What was **she **even doing here? Of all the people to meet... Wasn't she supposed to be some Alliance science buff or officer or something? She specialized in technology and computers, if I'm remembering my lore correctly. So why was she posing as a psychiatrist? None of this made much sense.

The air seemed to still around us, the pause couldn't have been for more than a millisecond, but it was enough to confirm my suspicions.

"I'm afraid the medication must have you confused." 'Rachel' stated evenly.

"No, I'm thinking much clearer now, thank you very much." I respond with a sarcastic smirk. A psychiatrist wouldn't be so interested in how I ended up on Mindoir. "None of the questions you've asked me so far have anything to do with my mental health. So how about we start this over again. Hi, I'm Matthew Carter. What's your name?"

I needed to make sure it was her. It seemed like such a long shot. But still. The galaxy had already proven to be much smaller than expected.

I held my hand out for her to shake. She glanced at it for a long moment, before her eyes fixated on mine and an impromptu staring contest ensued. It took all my mental fortitude not to blink or look away. She was searching for something and I don't know what scared me more; her not finding whatever it was, or the exact opposite.

Apparently reaching a decision, she took my hand, "First Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders. And you are much more intuitive than I previously assumed. My apologies."

Good, now we were getting somewhere, "No harm done. If you don't mind me asking, what are you really doing here?"

Kahlee smiled, but the action never reached her eyes, "You seem to have garnered the interest of my superiors."

All I've done so far is get shot at. Not really an interest sparker. Than again, I was from about 150 years into the past. But they couldn't be talking about that, could they?

"I'm nothing special."

"True, but Naval Intelligence finds it curious that someone as old as yourself has survived so long with no official documentation to speak of."

Naval Intelligence? Were they... in the first game? No, that wasn't right. Sanders never mentioned anything about Naval Intelligence, to my knowledge. Actually any info on Sanders herself was scarce. In the games, you know she had something to do with Anderson during his trial to be a spectre, but that was about it. She just kind of disappears into the Alliance after that.

Guess this answers the question of what she was doing between then and Grissom Academy.

"What's the big deal? Maybe I like my privacy."

"You don't seem to understand, Naval Intelligence has the resources to find out what you had for breakfast five years ago. They can dig up anything on anyone. Family members. Place of birth. Bank accounts. School reports. Favorite color. Anything" Kahlee stated in a matter-o-fact tone. She seemed almost bored with the explanation. But her eyes never left my face. She was watching me. Judging how I would react.

Now that was an unnerving thought.

"What they don't have is any records on a certain 'Matthew Carter'." Kahlee concluded, dropping her bored expression and leaning forward with curiosity. "How did you manage that?"

"Like I said, my privacy is important to me."

"Let me rephrase my question; Why are there no records of you?"

"I don't know. My family and I never stayed in one place very long. We were always on the move." Blatant lie, but I didn't know what else to say in this situation.

Sanders gives me a piercing gaze, before shrugging, "You seem to have grown attached to Ms. Shepard, yes?"

The question comes so far out from left field it takes me a moment to comprehend what she's asking, "Jane? What's she got to do with any of this?"

Sanders shrugs again, "Naval Intelligence knows she's a biotic and that she entrusted you- and only you- with this knowledge." My blood turned to ice at the direction this conversation was heading. "It'd be a shame if her little secret got out and you were held accountable for exposing her. The Alliance is always looking for more biotics for their camps. They'd snatch her up in a heart beat."

"Thats not- You can't!" What the actual fuck?! How did they know all this? I just made that promise!

A sympathetic look passed through Sanders expression, "I wouldn't, kid. I'm just telling you how this would pan out if Naval Intelligence had their way. You're lucky I volunteered for this little interview and not some other operative. Not everyone is as friendly as I am."

I rub my eyes, trying to restart my heart after that little scare. I was in way over my head here.

"What do you want me to say? Cause I'll sing like a freaking bird if you want, just don't let anyone know Jane's a biotic." Maybe it was stupid, but for some ungodly reason, Jane trusted me, and that made me feel like I meant something in this universe. Like I wasn't just some cosmic fuck up. Besides that, I was steadfast to a fault. I may not be very good at much, but I was loyal to my friends.

"Nothing."

My head shoots up and I turn fully to face her. "What?"

Kahlee shrugs, "The point of this interview was to establish contact and determine whether you were a threat to the Alliance or not." She gives me a smirk, "Congratulations, you're as harmless as a rabbit. Naval Intelligence no longer sees you as a security risk. Now they're just curious. And that's much worse. Be careful. They'll be watching your every move from here on out. Cross referencing everything you say. You so much as sneeze and they'll know."

Sanders stands from her chair, and takes a step to leave before hesitating. Her expression becomes thoughtful before she turns back to me with an apologetic look, "Listen kid, for what it's worth, I just think you're someone who found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. God knows I've been in my fair share of those situations before." She retrieves something from her pocket and tosses it onto my bed sheets. "I'll see you around."

And just like that, Sanders, along with the entire crisis, walked straight out of the medbay.

Did that just happen?

I glance down to see an omni-tool sitting innocently on the bed sheets. It's slightly larger in size than Martin Shepard's, but unmistakable in design.

I numbly reach for it, slipping it over my wrist. It opens with a flash of orange light, bright scrawling lines of text float above my arm. _'A gift, from us to you. We'll be in touch.'_

Creepy motherfuckers.

Well, I probably wasn't going to get much sleep tonight anyways.

* * *

The month passed by in a blur. Sleeping never became much easier, but I learned to get by with a few hours here and there.

I know most people would kill to be in space, but at the time I was too busy watching my back like a hawk. I never saw Sanders again. I know it was a large ship, but the woman just fucking disappeared! It's like she was never even on board...

Creepy. Naval Intelligence. Motherfuckers.

In fact, the only evidence that the meeting/interrogation even happened was the omni-tool currently wrapped around my wrist.

Why did all secret agencies have to be so melodramatic? Why wasn't there ever an agency that just straight up told you that they would be stalking you for the next few years? It would not have made me feel any better, but I would have appreciated the thought.

I was confined to the medbay for most of the month, but Jane made for decent company. We never talked much about anything serious (The topic of Mindoir was avoided like the plague). I soon learned the hard way that she had a sliver wit and that it was extremely difficult to match her when it came to conversations. Luckily, I had sarcasm to fall back on.

Chakwas was also a constant. She dotted over Jane and I like a mother hen, even after Jane and I were both able to leave the medbay for our own quarters. The good doctor was the person who really helped me adjust to this whole transition, even if she didn't know it. She never balked at my questions or looked annoyed with my presence, even when it became painfully obvious I had no idea how to use a datapad or omni-tool. If there was ever a word to describe her, it would be motherly.

On slow days, she would teach me about the different medical equipment and how to treat different injuries, mostly bullet wounds. Though I had to promise Chakwas that I had no intention of getting shot at again.

And I was an eager student. The year was 2170, that means I had roughly twelve years before the events of the first game. Jane was already a powerhouse so I had a lot of catching up to do before I could even think about saving the galaxy. I would never be a great soldier; I sucked a taking orders and my experience with firearms was, unfortunately, lacking at the moment. Shotguns, sniper rifles, and maybe assault rifles, was the extent of my insight and I wasn't to sure on that last one. Mindoir kind of forced me to learn how to use an assault rifle and it was clear I still had a long way to go before I had any sort of accuracy with it.

I've only ever used shotguns and precision rifles when hunting with my dad. And I'm willing to bet, I was still only mediocre with the weapons. Needed to work on that.

That wasn't all I had to work on. During my down time, I threw myself at the omni-tool with fervor, learning everything I could through the extranet about different applications and uses. I'd probably never be Tali's level, but if I started now, I could end up being a fairly decent engineer. Just needed to learn how to use a data pad first...

Actually, it was through my browsing on the omni-tool that I realized what I could excel at.

Combat Medic. I've done my research on the extranet and the Alliance was always looking for more able bodied medics. I could do that. Maybe. And hell, I don't recall the Normandy ever having a medic. Thus the lessons with the good doctor became a daily occurrence. She wasn't particularly happy with my career choice, but she didn't argue.

Chakwas's method of teaching was extremely simplified, which was greatly appreciated. It reminded me a bit of my first aid training. It was easy and straightforward. Here's the wound. This is how you treat it.

"Medi-gel is all well and good, but you can only carry around so much at a time." Chakwas lectured towards Jane and I. Well, mostly me. Jane was staring out the viewport of the medbay, looking a thousand miles away, with her father's omni-tool wrapped around her wrist. I couldn't even begin to fathom what was going on in that head of hers, but the way I figured it, she didn't want anybody comforting or disturbing her while she dealt with her own personal demons. That's not to say I wasn't there for her. If she ever needed me, I'd be right here.

I blame my older brother complex for causing me to care so much.

"Needles, tourniquets, stitches, disinfectant. These are the types of items you should always have on you during combat." Chakwas glanced at Jane with veiled worry before her attention diverted back to me, "Often times, a tourniquet will save a life better than medi-gel ever could."

"Sickness and disease are another thing you always have to be careful of, while in the field. Most are vaccinated against, but there are some cases where you might have to take precautionary measures." I wonder if I should be taking notes. Was there gonna be a test later?

All too soon, our time aboard the cruiser came to a close.

The SSV Einstein hung suspended over Earth. The tiny blue and green planet filled the bridge's main viewport. I could use my hand to block out the view, but at that moment, I didn't feel much like a giant. I felt very very small.

"Where do you think they'll send us?"

I turn back my attention to Jane. We would have to report to the hanger in an hour. I was not looking forward to saying goodbye to Chakwas, she was a really nice lady, and I owed her. Not only for patching me up, but also for the lessons. She gave me a few reading materials to look over on my omni-tool and made me promise to keep up my studies.

"Depends, I guess." I say with a shrug, "I don't have any family that'll claim me, so I'll probably get shipped off to some orphanage. How 'bout you? Any relatives?"

Jane shakes her head, her face broody and pensive. That's a negative.

I give her a wide grin, "Eh, look on the bright side, shorty; you'll have me as company. I'm great company."

Jane sends me sharp glare, but it's ruined when a small smirk tugs at her mouth. She turns and checks my shoulder slightly, "Guess I'll have to put up with you for a little while longer, boy scout." She leaves before I can come up with something clever.

I turn back to viewport, pressing my hand slightly against it to block out the planet. It wasn't my Earth. I knew that much from the extranet. It was about the same timeline up until the twenty-first century, but after that things get hectic. It looked the same, but it wasn't.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

Not my Earth.

I heave a heavy sigh.

I'm not getting home anytime soon, am I?

* * *

**AN: Really sorry about not updating sooner, ladies and gentlemen. Got sidetracked with studying and then had to deal with the website not saving my chapter for some reason. And then this chapter took an odd turn. And blah blah blah excuses.**

**Also, special thanks to Richard Caine for his ****correspondence. He was huge help when I needed some time to organize my thoughts on where this fic was going.**

**I'd also like to thank all those that either reviewed, followed, and/or favorite this story (Cake Of Spades: I do, in fact, know the muffin man. He lives on Drury Lane). You guys inspire me to keep writing. And I hope to improve my writing style with each review. **

**You people are just amazing.**

**Thanks again!**

**-Solas Nocturne**


	5. Chapter 5

"One can have only as much preparation as he has foresight." -Jim Butcher, _Changes_

* * *

Well, it could have been worse.

Jane and I were labeled as refugees almost as soon as we stepped off the ship. We were carted from place to place as some people in big office buildings debated where to put us.

Refugees. God, what a horrible term. It might as well have meant somebody else's problem.

The orphanage we were eventually sent to was located in New York city. Why New York, I had no idea. I didn't bother asking. Maybe it was because that's where the SSV Einstein docked. Just a convenience for everyone, I guess.

I wasn't really familiar with the city. I had seen pictures, but those were horribly outdated compared to the sprawling metropolis that had arisen over the past hundred years.

Walkways connected buildings together, allowing commuters to travel about unhindered. Skycars raced overhead at breakneck speeds and roads that had once been busy with traffic were now empty besides the pedestrians. The empire state building that once dominated the skyline hundreds of years ago was now dwarfed by the giant structures that saturated the city.

Seriously, the technological advances made through mass effect fields and element zero was astounding. Flying cars, holograms, towering buildings, space travel, that was all common! No one even batted an eye when the driverless shuttle came and picked us up. Not only that but upon further study of Chakwas's texts, I learned that diseases like cancer, Alzheimer's, diabetes, mental disorders, all those things had been treated and cured ages ago!

Jane must have thought I was crazy, gawking at the city out the window of the shuttle as we raced past the sites. I probably looked like an idiot, cringing at every sudden stop or hint of turbulence, but it wasn't my fault. There was no fucking pilot! All of it was automated. My fear was perfectly justified in my mind. Never was a very good flyer in the first place.

At least I stopped questioning my sanity. There was no way my subconscious was creative enough to imagine a futuristic New York without smog or pollution.

Honestly, the air was the cleaner than in any 21st century city I've ever lived. The air was so clean you could eat off it.

...That probably doesn't make much sense. Let me think of a better analogy.

The air was cleaner than my old apartment. No, that's not saying much... How 'bout the air was cleaner than a quarian ship. Heh, yeah. That's an appropriate comparison.

The shuttle, which might as well have been a glorified futuristic bus, dropped us off at the orphanage. We stepped out into the older part of Brooklyn.

My eyes swept over the building briefly before concluding that we got screwed over.

"This looks... homely."

Jane scoffed, obviously unimpressed.

"Maybe the caretakers are nice."

A snort of disbelief.

"Maybe I'll just shut up."

A soft hum of agreement.

I picked up my small pack the Alliance was kind enough to provide me. Jane had a similar one strapped across her back. It didn't hold much, a toothbrush, some toiletries, and a spare change of clothes that loosely fit me. It was a good thing I'd eventually grow a couple more inches and my shoulders would broaden out.

"Well, we aren't getting anywhere standing here." I say as cheerfully as I can, walking towards the front doors of the orphanage with Jane Shepard at my side.

This was not really ideal. I almost wish they had kept us on the SSV Einstein. At least there I could continue learning how to be a decent medic under Dr. Chakwas. Then again, staying on the ship would just mean creepy Naval Intelligence hovering somewhere over my shoulder, watching me and waiting for me to slip up somehow and haul my ass to the nearest interrogation room. And that was not exactly the most comforting thought.

I don't even know what they were expecting to find out. Unless they were specifically looking for someone from the 21st century. If so, then I was screwed.

Would they have someone watching me at the orphanage? Probably. I already felt like I was under surveillance.

Joy.

St. Teresa's Home for Wayward Children.

Even the name sounded depressing.

Strange city. Strange time. Strange people.

Would a little familiarity be too much to ask for?

I glanced down at Jane. Well, at least she was familiar.

This was going to be a long two years.

* * *

Life at the orphanage felt... wrong. It was so routine and normal. At least onboard the Einstein there was this sense of urgency. Everyone had been so focused with driving back the slavers and the cleanup. Here, however, life went on as if the raid never happened. As if Mindoir never even occurred. It was all just some small little section on the Alliance News Network.

I didn't like it. Not one bit.

And as much as I loathed to admit it, I was feeling restless. I wanted my rifle back. The thought of a gun in my hands both comforted and terrified. Comforting because at least with the weight of a rifle, there was something between me and the rest of this messed up galaxy. Terrifying because the image of a batarian's head exploding continued to plague my dreams.

Sleep was hard to come by. I must have driven my dorm mates insane with my sleeping habits. It was a good thing I had grown accustomed to sharing my room with two brothers or else I would have just told them to deal with it.

The other kids at the orphanage were foreign to me. Some of the younger ones reminded me of my siblings, but the older ones, the ones closer to Jane's age, they perplexed me. They walked around, talking about their futures and school as if life was just hunky-dory. Threats like the batarians didn't even register in their hormone driven minds.

I knew they were just teenagers, and that I was being unreasonable, but I couldn't help it. None of this sat right with me.

And the caretakers weren't much better. They tried to understand. They really did. And I appreciated the effort they went to, but how could they? I was a guy one hundred some odd years from the past who just went through a war zone only to come up from the trenches to realize that everyone he knew and everything that was familiar no longer existed.

That they never even existed in the first place! And that he was in a game! A goddamn video game that he had only played through a couple times during his off hours in college.

Maybe I was a little distraught. I blame sleep depravation. I got irritable when I didn't get my beauty rest.

It took more than a couple deep breathing exercises to keep myself from throttling any of those damn psych counselors the caretakers hired for me and Jane.

And Jane… well, she left the last therapist in tears. I don't know how she did it, but it was impressive. Never seen a grown man cry like that before. Wisely, the caretakers pretty much gave up after that little incident.

Jane and I were friends… I think. Camaraderie was a good term for it.

We were both foreigners in this place. United by circumstance and our shared experiences.

Our conversations were usually initiated by me (which was never a good idea since I was socially inept) and they mostly consisted of me making stupid jokes and her replying with annoyed grunts.

A perfect example:

"Whats up, Jane?"

"Not much."

"You have a minute to talk?"

"No."

"Alrighty then."

And that's it. That's how we interacted.

At least Garrus Vakarian used calibrations as an excuse to get out of conversations. Jane just blatantly blew me off. I know I wasn't exactly sliver tongued but c'mon!

I could't fault her for not talking, she obviously had better things to think about than my lame attempts at conversation, and I didn't want to push her into speaking before she was ready. Still, shutting herself off completely wasn't the answer either. Though, it's not like I could force her to make friends.

I guess I should feel honored that I was the one person she deemed worthy of responses. Every one else she just sort of ignored. I became her official spokesperson during the following weeks. Never thought I would be known as 'the talkative' one.

Jane was reserved and became solely focused on running herself into the ground through training. She was out at the crack of dawn, jogging. During classes at the local public school we were forced to attend, (which was bullshit, by the way. I've already gone through high school once. A second time just reminded me how much of a cesspool it was) I saw her subtly practicing her biotics with a pen, twirling it between her fingers almost unconsciously. It was like a nervous habit. She was careful, though, and she hid the glow almost perfectly. Still, the smell of ozone surrounded her and more than once I had to subtly nudge her or make a scene when a teacher's eyes began to wonder towards the back of the classroom. Sometimes, she would ditch the school altogether and I had the distinct feeling she was off practicing in some secluded spot with the more explosive elements of her biotic abilities.

It's not like she missed much. The days she attended, she aced any test put in front of her. Jane and I were actually at the top our class. Mostly because I had seen all the material before and Jane was just naturally intuitive when it came to school. I wanted to follow her to wherever it was she went, but never worked up the nerve.

Then the silent treatment came to an abrupt end.

* * *

**December 10, 2170 (two months since displacement)**

I had been sleeping one night (or I was attempting to), when a pair of hands dragged me roughly from my bunk.

"Son of bi-!" one of the hands clasped tightly around my mouth.

"Shut up, boy scout." a familiar voice hissed out quietly. Jane glanced hurriedly around the dorm I shared with a couple other guys to make sure the noise hadn't woken them up. "We're getting out of this hell hole."

Well, at least I could safely say I've had worse wake up calls.

I give her a mute nod, deciding to ask questions as soon as she took her hand from my mouth. Quietly of course.

She let go and tossed my duffel bag at me. "Pack what you can and hurry."

I obeyed, slipping on a pair of shoes. I never really unpacked in the first place. "Where's the fire, chief?" I whispered, still slightly dazed. "Or are we just going for romantic midnight stroll?"

She doesn't answer. Stiil, I was ecstatic she was using full sentences. Was it sad that the only person I cared about talking to was practically a functioning mute? That sounds like a question for another time.

Once I have my bag slung over my shoulder, she grabs my hand and we move silently through the halls of the orphanage.

"I've got enough creds saved up to buy us both tickets to Anhur. It's a fairly new colony. A human-batarian settlement. Some bullshit way to placate the Batarian Hegemony. There's a lot of slaves there."

I blinked. Okaaayy? I'm pretty sure this was not supposed to happen. Where did I fuck up and how can I fix it? "Are you sure this is a good idea, Shepard?"

She gives a short, humorless, chuckle as we round the corner, "Don't you feel it?" Jane raised her hand and glowed with azure light momentarily. The bars on a nearby window popped off. My eyebrows raised, she was serious about this. Those bars had been screwed in. She would of had to unscrew each one individually to make them give so easily. That would have taken time.

Did I miss something? Was there some group meeting I was supposed to attend? Cause I'm pretty sure escaping never came up in any of our mostly one-sided conversations.

I dig in my feet into the floor, grinding us to a halt as Jane was about to step towards the window. I needed to buy time to figure this all out. "Alright, short stuff, either you start talking or I start shouting."

She turns swiftly, so quickly I have to take a step back when I see her eyes glowering at me. Faint biotic energy cackling around her, lighting up the darkness around us.

"They're hurting! Don't ask me how I know! I just know!" She grabs the front of my shirt. "And I'm just... sitting here! Doing nothing!"

That's when it dawned on me. "Jane-"

"Don't you dare!" She backed me up until I my back was pressed against the wall. Biotics flaring dangerously. She should really be more careful with those powers if she wants to keep them a secret. I glanced side to side, hoping no one heard this exchange, "I know what you're gonna say, and I don't care. I **need** to look for them, dammit!"

Oh man, she was very serious.

This is my fault. Somehow. It had to be my fault. I screwed up somewhere. I did something wrong. I messed up.

"Shorty-"

"I know what you're thinking," Jane continued, though I'm not sure if she was arguing with me or herself at this point, "But I can't just wait any longer. It's not right. This place isn't right. They walk around and act... normal!"

"Short stuff-"

"I'm not like you, Matt. Whatever you got that keeps you going through each day with that stupid happy-go-lucky grin, I don't have it. I can't just sit here pretending everything is going to work itself out!"

What? She thought… Ah hell. That's what I get for acting pleasant.

I gripped her by her shoulders, "Alright, Jane."

The red head blinked, any further attempts to argue dying on her lips along with the wisps of biotic energy that outlined her, "What?"

"Alright." I stated again running a hand through my disheveled hair. Why couldn't this have waited until the morning? "But we can't parade around the galaxy like some rag-tag version of Liam Neeson from Taken."

Jane's face turned defiant again, "I can't do nothing, boy scout, I refuse to do nothing."

"I know, okay? I'm not saying we do nothing." Damn, why'd she have to be so impulsive? Just my luck I get the headstrong Shepard. Why not nice Shepard? I pinch the bridge of my nose, thoughts drifting to my comfortable bed. Oh well, I wasn't getting any sleep tonight anyways. "I promised I would help you find them, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do. But the galaxy is a big and dangerous place. We need time to prepare. Start training. Maybe we can enlist-"

"Enlist?" Jane looked at me as if I was crazy, "To hell with that, we aren't fighting for some Alliance."

…Uh what?

Great, another curve ball. That's just what I needed.

"I thought you'd want to get back at the batarians?" This wasn't in the script either. I couldn't have changed events that drastically, right? She was supposed to want revenge, wasn't she?

"I do." Jane stated, brows furrowing, " God, I want to rip them apart. But mom and Tommy come first." A small smirk makes its way on her face, "Family is weird like that."

I bite back a grimace. Well, that explains things. I'm somehow responsible for this. I gave her hope and now, instead of running off to join the Alliance she wants to put her life back together. From a moral standpoint; that's very admirable. From a trans-dimensional hopper's standpoint, this is very very bad. How can she become Commander Shepard if she never joins the Alliance? How was she supposed to become a spectre and track down Saren if she doesn't first go through basic training?

My hand rubs at my forehead. All this thinking was giving me a headache. I take a deep breath and begin preparing myself for the argument that's about to ensue. I had to get her to join the Alliance. Everything hinged on her becoming the best humanity had to offer and she couldn't do that if she was running around the galaxy.

But then I take another look into her blood-shot eyes and I realize something very important; I couldn't do it.

I couldn't force her to enlist.

She didn't deserve to have the weight of the galaxy thrust upon her. I don't care what any video game plot says. She was a human being and she just wanted to find her family. And whether Jane knew it or not, she somehow wormed her way into the select category of people I considered to be extended family. That made me responsible. If she wanted to find her family then I was gonna do everything in my power to make it happen.

Fuck berries, I hated being responsible.

My brain raced to cope with the sudden development, only slightly aware I was about to throw the entire timeline out the proverbial airlock. I knew my presence here was going to cause ripples, but this was a freaking tidal wave. "We can train than. Work as mercenaries or something. Just until we get enough money to buy information for where your family is."

She doesn't say anything. Just continues searching me with this unreadable look. What did she want me to say? I didn't have all the answers. I wish I did, but I was never great at thinking on the fly.

"Hire someone to look for them, you know? The Shadow Broker's supposed to be the best source for this kind of information. Maybe we can work for him?"

"Every second we waste is another second they spend in captivity for no reason." Jane's lips press into a thin line and her gaze burrows into me. Dammit, she was being stubborn again.

"Than we make each second count." I retort.

We descend into silence, making me fidget in agitation. Please, let this work. Anything is better than having her run off to some colony.

Finally, she gives me a half-hearted glare, "I hate it when you make sense."

I breath a sigh of relief, "Yeah, me too."

Well, I may have just doomed the entire galaxy. You can all congratulate me later.

Only time would tell how badly this was gonna blow up in my face.

I glanced down the hallway. It looked like no one heard us. Good. This would have been a bitch explaining to the caretakers. "And for the record, my happy-go-lucky smile is not stupid."

"Why'd I bother waking you up?"

"Cause you'd be lost without your trusty sidekick? And you keep me around to make you feel much more competent by comparison?"

Jane rolls her eyes, but a small smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, "Damn right."

I smirk good-naturedly, "Get some sleep, Jane. We'll figure out the rest of this tomorrow." Yeah, I'm hypocrite. Sue me.

"The circles under you're eyes are darker than mine." Jane fires back, immediately putting her 'stubborn look' back on.

Shit. Why'd she have to be so observant? "Don't you worry about me-"

"I'm not worried." Jane bit out, "I'm just tired of seeing you stumble around during the day, looking like death."

I gave her a weak smile. "Hey, now. You're not exactly this year's beauty queen, Ms. Shepard."

"I look ten times better than you on any given day."

A dry chuckle escaped me, "Yeah, alright that's true, but you still need sleep."

"I sleep when you do."

I may have been tired, but that was a perfect setup and I refused to let an opportunity like that go. "Are you insinuating something, shorty?"

Jane doesn't miss a beat. A smirk dawns on her face, "And if I am?"

My brain goes dead for a couple seconds, trying to think of a response.

Jane let's out a soft laugh, "Never thought I would see you at a loss for words."

"Yeah, well… Your face." I mutter. That wasn't fair. Not fair at all. I rub tiredly at my eyes.

Jane noticed the action. She grabbed my wrist in a vice like grip and gives me a hard stare. "I'm serious, boy scout. You need to sleep."

Unexpectedly, steps echo through the hallways. We freeze in place. A shadow loomed against the wall closest to us. It was coming from the caretaker's wing.

Ah fuck me sideways.

We froze. Not moving a muscle. There was nowhere for us to run. Our steps would be heard if we tried to make a break for it so we just stood there, with Jane's grip still locked around my wrist and my back still pressed against the wall.

Thankfully, the shadow moves away from the hallway and I let my body relax.

I let out a weary and stifled laugh.

"What's so funny?"

I glance down at Jane, "We were once running and hiding from batarian slavers. Now we're running and hiding from a bunch of caretakers."

Jane blinked before a broad grin stretched across her face and she snickered, "How the mighty have fallen." Then her gaze became piercing again, "Anything else you'd like to tell me?"

I let out a dramatic sigh, "Alright, you've broken me. The reason I'm not sleeping is because I'm secretly having an affair with an asari super model."

"Bullshit, an asari is completely out of your league."

"Now that's just hurtful."

"Matt." Crap, she was using her no nonsense tone.

Unexpected frustration suddenly flared in me. She didn't get to do that. I was the one worried about her and the fact that she wasn't talking. She would just disappear randomly on some days and I was just now learning that she had been planning to escape. She didn't get to demand answers from me now when she's been keeping me in the dark this entire time. "What do you want me to say, Jane? Communication is supposed to be a two-way street and you've left me to pave the way all by my lonesome."

I regretted the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Jane reacts as if I just burned her, backing up and letting go of my wrist almost immediately. Her eyes wide in shock before her face becomes stone again.

The silence that descended afterwards spoke volumes.

Nice going, ya idgit. You just managed to piss off your friend and doom the galaxy all in one night. That takes skill. Got any more scathingly brilliant ideas? Why don't you kick a puppy while you're at it?

I opened my mouth to apologize.

"I'm sorry."

It closed shut with a surprised click.

Jane's face softens to become sincere, "You're right; I've been a shitty friend. That's on me." She crosses her arms and leans on her hip suddenly glancing everywhere except at my eyes, "But I'm here now."

My hand rubbed at the back of my neck. "Nah, I'm sorry. I get it. You wanted to deal with this shit on your own. I can respect that, but our dynamics need a bit of an overhaul. I'm not saying we have to know every stupid detail about each other, but it would be nice if we just kept each other in the loop, right?" I give her a small smirk, "Maybe tell each other when we're planning to run off in the middle of the night?"

Jane gives a brief nod, a shadow of a smirk flashing across her face. "Alright. Just… I'm here, okay? You can talk to me. I'm not like any of those damn shrinks."

"Same offer goes for you," I shrugged. "We're in this together."

She rewarded me with a genuine smile, "Damn right."

"Great," Another crisis averted, "We can call ourselves Team Carter."

"We're not calling ourselves that."

"But it has such a nice ring to it."

"It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"That sounds like a challenge. I accept."

* * *

From that moment on, life became a bit more tolerable. There was no more talk of escaping during the night or any more heart-to-hearts. We started working together and communicating much more effectively. She was still silent and aloof at most times and I was still socially inept, but we became masters at the silent conversations. Being able to convey words and meanings with just the slightest glance. It was weird, like we were on the same wavelength or something.

Not that I was complaining.

And sleeping became much easier.

We devoted every moment we could to preparing for life as mercenaries.

Weapons training was out of our reach, apparently in the year 2170, it was frowned upon for anyone under the age of eighteen to want to practice shooting things. Which is a bullshit 'cause I distinctly remember dad teaching my brothers and I how to use hunting rifles and no one even batting an eye! Family tradition my ass.

That didn't stop us from sparring. Jane showed me the abandoned warehouse she had been using to practice her biotics. It was right next to an industrial plant and any noise that was produced through her powers was drowned out by the assembly line.

In our spars, I would have thought my experience in boxing and natural strength gave me an edge. That was not the case. Not even a little bit. Apparently Jane had been studying judo since she was six.

Yeah, I was surprised too.

Boxing didn't have shit on judo. Good thing I knew how to take a hit.

Thus Jane took it upon herself to teach me a little of what she learned over the years. I was getting better and eventually after a couple of months I could last nearly five minutes before Jane throughly thrashed me.

I even got up at the crack of dawn to jog with her.

"Oh god." I wheezed tiredly, clutching my side, "What foul trickery is this, you height deficient demon spawn?" I fall dramatically to my knees, "So tired. Need air. And water. Call ambulance."

Jane jogged past me, lapping me for the second time. Her expression became deadpan as she looked me over, "What are you doing?"

"Dying." I groan. "I thought it was obvious. Shorty, I know jogging is supposed to be healthy and all, but at what cost?"

Jane just rolled her eyes and hauled me to my feet, "Get up, boy scout. We've barely run four miles."

"Four whole miles?!"

Obviously, even without asthma, running was not my strong suit.

However, I wasn't about to be left behind. Technology and medicine was where I excelled.

We studied the texts that Chakwas forwarded to me religiously. There was a lot to learn. Asari anatomy, krogan biology, batarian physiology. That last one particularly interested Jane. She probably was taking the whole 'know thy enemy' saying very seriously.

It almost became like a game. A competition to see how we could one up each other. She'd kick my ass in fighting, I'd show her how to use her omni-tool to hack a datapad. She'd learn a new trick with her biotics that improved her power, I'd learn how to extract a paint-chip sized bullet using only my swiss army knife. It was a good system.

We were discreet, and we were getting better. There was only so much we could learn from the extranet and each other, but we were getting there.

And just because Jane wasn't joining with the Alliance, didn't mean I was completely discarding canon. Some things could be different, but some might stay the same. I couldn't be sure.

I spent my spare time planning. Anticipating how to work the galaxy from this new angle.

There was just so many 'what ifs'. Too many unknowns.

All this worrying was giving me gray hairs.

Ideas were thought up before being swiftly discarded. Timelines were made and sometimes, I'd wake up in the dead of night and just start writing down everything I could remember from the games and lore. I then encrypted the files like no other on my omni-tool. Even going so far as to use a long thought out code.

I didn't want anyone seeing the files. They'd either use the timelines to their advantage or (more likely) would report me into the nearest mental asylum. Swapping the orphanage for a padded room was not on my ever growing To Do list.

Research and preparing for galactic events became a hobby. Well, that and having Jane beat me senseless in physical training.

The first year at the orphanage past by us and life was... as normal as it could get at this point.

At least until Naval Intelligence got involved.

* * *

**August 10, 2171**

The sound metal and tools echoed around the warehouse, drowning out the impacts of my fists against the speed bag I had bought on the orphanage's allowance. Couldn't afford much else. It was almost time for me to head back, but I couldn't leave yet, the rhythmic beat was soothing. Boxing was great way to work off steam.

A noise that shouldn't have been there penetrated the grinding assembly line.

"You know, if you were any quieter, you'd be a vorcha."

I could feel the disgruntled glare being aimed at my back and had to bite back a smile.

"How did you know?" Jane asked simply from behind me. I gave the speed bag a final punch, before turning to meet her scowl. Honestly, she needed to laugh more.

"Oh, you know. The room just brightens every time you enter it."

Her scowl deepened, "Wipe that smirk off your face, boy scout. It's time to head back."

Head back. Not head home. The orphanage wasn't home. Not even after a year of living there. Not home. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss my family and friends. Hell, I even missed the familiar polluted air of the city. Strange, right?

I look back at Jane and give her a bright grin, "Go ahead without me. I'll catch up."

She doesn't move, drilling me with an unreadable look, before shrugging. "Don't be too late." Jane turns on her heel and walks out of the make-shift gym.

"Happy travels." Happy travels? What the hell? Couldn't I just say goodbye like a regular person? What is wrong with me?

I wasn't too worried about her finding her way back. The warehouse wasn't in the best of neighborhoods, but Jane was a biotic that knew judo. I pity the fool who messed with her.

"You're pretty good at that."

The voice throws off my beat and I miss a punch. I spin around to see Kahlee Sanders stalking towards me. Gone was the navy blue jumpsuit and in it's place was a more casual outfit for working out.

How'd she know about this place?

Oh… right. Stupid question.

I get over my shock quickly, "Well, didn't expect to see you again," the unasked query hanging in the air. What did Naval Intelligence want?

"We need to talk. Her face was deadly serious as her feet move into a stance and she brings her hands up. Not giving a hint of emotion. Sanders then beckons for me to fight.

Apparently 'talking' meant her beating me into a bloody pulp.

Fantastic. Another ass kicking. That's what this day needed.

I slip into my own stance, "So what is this, huh?" Kahlee circles around me. Like a panther stalking it's prey. Why is she always sizing me up?

Boxing was like a dance. Maybe other people saw it differently, but for me it's always been a dance. A very painful dance. I throw a jab and she ducks almost on instinct coming up with a hook that I back up to avoid. "I've been on my best behavior. Haven't done a thing wrong." A sardonic smile stretches across my face, "Unless you consider being adorable a crime."

Sanders smirks, "You're not that adorable. Sorry to disappoint you but you've been causing too many waves. Naval Intelligence doesn't like that."

"Tough." My next jab lands against her side, but hardly fazes her.

"You're not making my job any easier, you know that?" The words along with a fist to my ribs, catch me off guard. I bring up a block and throw my fist out, only to slam harmlessly against her forearms.

"What are you talking about?" I retaliated by throwing a couple of jabs, but she either danced out of the way or blocked them.

Kahlee brought her guard up. "To put it bluntly, Naval Intelligence doesn't like letting assets slip through their fingers."

I return with a left hook that clipped her shoulder, but otherwise, missed her completely. Dammit, what the hell was this? I'm could at least score a couple of hits on Jane by this time! Sanders was fast. And this definitely wasn't her first time in the ring. "I'm not some 'asset'. I don't know what kind of game you're playing but I don't want any part of it."

"This isn't about you." Kahlee snapped, scoring a few more jabs on my ribs. Her expression causes me to pause. She actually looks frustrated. I never saw her like that before. Though we only talked once before so I guess that isn't saying much. "Not entirely. And keep you're guard up, you're better than this!" I block an uppercut in retaliation of her words, "This is about Ms. Shepard."

"Hey, Jane has nothing to do with this either." I throw a haymaker. It's clumsy and would have brought any real fighter to tears, "You leave her alone."

"Kid, if I had any say in the matter she wouldn't be anywhere near the agency's line of sights." She blocked my clumsy shot and moves into my face, throwing punches left and right. I only barely blocked them. "You think they weren't aware of you're little training sessions? Or of you're plans to become mercenaries?"

_Son of a bitch..._

I laugh breathlessly, before diving right back into the fray, throwing my own jabs. "You guys weren't joking about that whole watching me business."

"We take that part of our jobs very seriously." Kahlee replied with a smirk, backing away from my fists. The smirk soon fades, "Naval Intelligence can't let someone as gifted as Jane go."

"I don't remember them having a say in the matter."

"This isn't a debate." Kahlee barked back. We're circling each other. Suddenly, it wasn't a dance anymore. It had become something else.

"What is this then?" I asked. I'm not really a suspicious person by nature, but something was up. Sanders was avoiding the question since she got here. Wasting time...

Without warning, Kahlee charges me. There was no time to react. She's fast. Too fast. After a flurry of activity and a bunch of acrobatics I would never be able to perform, I find myself looking up at the ceiling with Sanders pinning my arms and legs, her face inches away from my own. I could actually smell the lilac shampoo she used.

"Not that this is an uncomfortable position," I blinked, still a bit dazed. Goddammit, she wasn't even sweating! I wasn't even a challenge! "But what the hell?"

Her piercing blue eyes bore into me. A multitude of emotion race through the eye contact. Guilt, remorse, shame, sadness. She looked away. The moment couldn't have lasted for more than a millisecond, but it felt like it lasted a lifetime and it chilled me to the bone. Why was she here?

"Talk to me Sanders, please."

She glanced back at me, and stood up, holding out her hand. I took it. Kahlee hauled me to my feet and I think I felt something slip into my palm.

"This is my way of saying sorry." Kahlee whispered, her face stoic.

She turned and walked away.

What the hell?

"Why do you people have such a flare with the dramatics?" I called out after her.

A heavy sense of foreboding settled in my stomach. I looked into my hand. A crumpled up piece of paper laid innocently in my palm. My gaze turned up to where Kahlee should be, only she's not. She's gone again.

I hesitantly unfolded the note.

_'Naval Intelligence is recruiting Jane into the Ascension Program and telling her you sold her out. They want her in the Alliance, not as some mercenary. I'm sorry.'_

The galaxy stood still.

You know when you get really bad news at the doctor's office? Or when you're about to crash you're car? That _oh shit_ moment where you're stomach drops into your feet and you can't breath and the world could just end in a fiery explosion the next second and you wouldn't even notice?

That's exactly how that moment felt.

I never tore so fast out of that warehouse. I didn't even care that my body ached or that I was covered in sweat. None of that mattered. It barely even registered in the back of my mind.

It made no rational sense. I'd never be able to explain it clearly and logically.

But all that mattered in that one moment was getting to Jane.

I rush through neighborhoods, street lights flickering on as the summer sky darkens.

Finally, I skid to a halt as I neared the orphanage. On the curb was a jet black skycar. It was completely unremarkable.

Except for the fact I've never seen it outside St. Teresa's before.

Not good. Very not good!

I was about to shoulder my way through the front door, only two men in navy uniforms walk out before I can even come within a ten foot radius of the orphanage. The name of the Ascension program spelled out across their backs. One had a black eye and the other favored his left side. The both reeked of ozone.

Oh dear, those wounds looked recent. A short chuckle escaped me. I wondered if a certain redhead was responsible? I brief flicker of hope sparked in me. Maybe she didn't believe them? Maybe I wouldn't end up as a red stain against a wall?

The two men still held themselves up, tall and proud. They looked horribly out of place in the crappy neighborhood, but they walked around as if they owned the block. They might as well have.

They didn't even look at me. Didn't acknowledge my existence. And why would they? I wasn't the main character here. I wasn't even a threat to them. I was a stupid teenage kid that had the misfortune of knowing Jane's secret.

Freaking bastards. The both of them.

They piled into the skycar and raced off to ruin someone else's day.

The next moment a very furious looking redhead storms out of the orphanage doors, biotic energy coming off her in waves. It's only then that I realize I'm just standing there, dumbstruck, and incriminating myself further by being in the same proximity as the two men.

I raise my hands in a placating manor, "Jane, wait. I don't know what they told you but-" Why did I start the sentence like that? I knew exactly what they told her. I guess it didn't matter because the next second, Jane has me in a biotic hold and slams me against the wall of the orphanage. My spine creaked painfully from the strain.

"You have thirty seconds." Jane said in voice so quite I had to strain to hear it. She stalked forwards, grabbed a handful of my shirt and slammed me back into the wall, making my head swim. "Before I kill you."

"Their lying." I seethe out through gritted teeth. "I would never rat you out like that."

"Twenty seconds."

"You know me better."

"Fifteen seconds."

"Fuck, Jane. I promised you I wouldn't and I don't go back on my promises."

The hold on me drops, and I collapse into a tangle of limbs.

Ow. Well, that couldn't have been good for my back.

Jane leans against the wall and slides down beside me. I glance at her while she rakes her fingers through her crimson hair. The anger had drained from her face. Now she just looked tired, "I know. Sorry. I know you wouldn't but-" Her hand slams against the wall, causing a sizable dent. I should probably be terrified, but considering all that's happened to her, I wouldn't blame her if she decided to tear the entire building down. Besides that, this was Jane. She wouldn't hurt me. I knew that the moment I raced down here.

Broken trust was another matter entirely.

Dammit, I should have told her about Naval Intelligence the moment they came to me. What the hell was I thinking? I know what I was thinking. I thought I could handle it all by myself. Sometimes, I underestimated the depths of my stupidity.

"I just- This isn't me. I'm stronger than this." Jane finally muttered, her voice weak and devoid of emotion and definitely not Jane's usual confident tone. I looked at her again and she's cradling her head in both hands, her crimson hair hiding her face from view "Fuck! How'd they find out! We were so careful."

I gazed numbly at the piece of paper still crumpled in my hand. Was it really only an hour ago we had our futures planned out before us? This was all so fucked.

"It's my fault." I felt her gaze snap to me and I slipped her the piece of paper, "I'm sorry I never told you about it before, but I thought that they were only focused on me." I snorted in disgust, "I'm kind of egotistical like that."

Jane examined the scrap of paper, her expression darkening further, "Who the hell are these assholes?"

I shrugged, "Don't know. Spooks I guess. I doubt they'd give me a straight answer if I asked."

Jane slammed her fist against the pavement again and fixed me with a piercing gaze, "Why did they contact you about this? Why did they even contact you in the first place?"

"I have a… friend who doesn't completely agree with what Naval Intelligence is doing." I took a deep breath, "And the reason that they contacted me in the first place is because they don't have the proper records on me or some bullshit like that." Not technically a lie. Just not the whole truth. We had bigger problems than my nonexistent past right now.

"Assholes." Jane breathed out, crumpling the paper and throwing it into the street. "Did they… always know? That I was a biotic?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Why wait until now?"

"Because they knew we would be able to leave as soon as we turned eighteen, and they want you in the Alliance."

Jane's gaze grew furious, "Then they can go fuck themselves. I'm not joining their Alliance."

"I don't think it's up for debate." A hollow smirk worked it's way onto my face as I think of Kahlee, "These creeps seem to get what they want. One way or another."

"Fucking hell."

"That pretty much sums it up."

The twilight slowly faded, and soon we were sitting in darkness. It was a warm night, though, so the cold wasn't an issue.

"I'll play their game." Jane brought her knees up and rested her chin against them, but the familiar fire I saw in her eyes on Mindoir was back, "They want a soldier? Fine. I'll give them a soldier. I'll be the best soldier they ever had."

You don't know how right you are.

I give her a lopsided grin. Maybe this was for the best. No more hiding her powers and everything would stay safe and predictable. But where did that leave me? Now we couldn't stay together. Even if I enlisted now, there was no guarantee that we would cross paths again. If only I was a biotic… Yeah, fat chance of that ever happening.

I'll have to work things from a new perspective. Maybe Mordin needed an assistant. Was he even on Omega at this time? Fuck, what a mess. All that planning, all that second-guessing, straight down the drain.

"Jane, I'm so sorry. I should have told about you about them in the first place. So much for keeping each other in the loop. We should have left for Anhur that night. I should-"

"Stop it."

Jane's voice interrupted my self berating. "What?"

"I don't like... this," Jane said, waving her hand to signify me, "You're not supposed to be the broody type." She cracked a half-hearted smile, "That's my job. You're the amiable one and I'm the unsociable one."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, "You think so? Alright, I'll be your plucky sidekick and you can be the dark knight. We'd make an awesome crime fighting duo."

Jane snorts and we lapse into an easy silence.

"Sorry I kinda threw you against a wall."

"That's alright. I sort of deserved it."

"Are you good?" Jane finally asked.

No, not really, "Yeah, don't you worry about me. You just worry about kicking some batarian ass. Show those pretentious assholes in the Alliance that you mean business."

Jane laughed. An honest to god laugh that rang through the quiet air.

Shit. I'm gonna miss that laugh.

She nudged me slightly and I took it as my que to wrap my hand around her shoulders. And we just sat there in quite camaraderie, a silent conversation being exchanged between the two of us.

_Everything's gonna be alright._

_I know. Just stay safe._

* * *

Jane left the next day.

Same guys in the same uniforms in the same skycar picked her up.

I was the only one to see her off.

"Take care of yourself." I stuck out my hand. Trying to avoid her gaze. I never was very good at goodbyes, "Alright, shorty?"

I heard Jane snort, before feeling her arms wrap around me in a tight hug. Ah dammit. I was never great with hugs either. Nevertheless, I hugged back, taking comfort in her presence while it lasted.

"Don't do anything stupid, boy scout."

"No promises."

She pulled away, holding me at arms length, "Will you… look for them, for me?"

I gave her a thumbs up. "Of course."

"Thanks boy scout."

"Don't mention it."

Then she was gone.

That just left me.

Trapped in an video game with nothing familiar.

The next few days a passed by in a crawl. I just went through the motions, devoting myself to physical training. I'd be dammed if the next time I sparred with Jane, I didn't at least last ten minutes. I researched mercenary groups and batarian slavers. The problem was that the batarian slave rings were a mess. No order whatsoever. Like trying to find a needle in the haystack. A galaxy sized haystack.

It wasn't a complete lost cause. I had the ID of the slaving vessel from the raid on Mindoir. It was mentioned briefly in the Alliance News Network. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

* * *

**September 7, 2171**

It was my birthday.

I never really took notice of it except for a few times in college when I celebrated with a couple of close friends.

Never saw much point, I guess.

Now was different. Now I was physically eighteen. A legal adult in the eyes of the Systems Alliance. The orphanage could no longer care for me.

I took my bag and the credits they gave me and I left St Teresa's behind me. I was heading for Omega. Employ my services there. Learn to shoot a gun without flinching. Maybe even cause a bit of chaos.

At least that was my plan until a neon yellow skycar pulled up right as I was exiting the orphanage.

"Dear Dr. King, that's an eyesore." I squint, trying to erase the image of the obnoxious color from my retinas. The person in the driver's seat, however, made my eyes widen in surprise.

Kahlee exited the vehicle with a grimace, "It's only temporary. My car's in the shop at the moment."

"Was there really nothing else available as a replacement?"

Kahlee smirked, "Not unless you preferred hot pink, kid."

"This is good."

"I thought you would think as much."

I leaned against the brightly colored frame of the vehicle, "So what is it now?" my voice nonchalant, "More bad news?"

A small smile flashed across Kahlee's face, "Why don't we take a ride and you'll find out."

"My parents always taught me to not accept rides from complete strangers."

Kahlee leaned against the hood opposite of me, a smile still playing across her face, "Don't you want to know where Ms. Shepard's family is located, kid?"

I step into the skycar, "Well, I've made worse decisions."

"This won't be one of them." Kahlee grins sliding into the driver seat. "Here's what they have planned for you..."

* * *

**AN: Holy hell it's been awhile since I last updated, huh? Sorry folks. Had to spend the last couple weeks back with the family and haven't had a lot of time to write. Hope you all had a relaxing holiday. **

**And hey, a long chapter. Thats gotta count for something, right?**

**Once ****again, big thanks to Richard Caine. **

**And huge thanks to all those that reviewed, favorite/and or follow! **

**I'll try to make my updates more predictable. Until next time!**

**-Solas Nocturne**


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